


of covens and magicians

by flavovitta



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Magical Realism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Witchcraft, the archive warning is there because of Ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 44
Words: 327,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24533365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flavovitta/pseuds/flavovitta
Summary: Izumi, a Fourthborn Witch who had given up on becoming a powerful magician years ago, receives a letter addressed to her father.It requests assistance in the following two endeavors:1: The restoration of the Mankai Coven,2: The Education of a Firstborn Witch named Sakuya.
Comments: 1242
Kudos: 877





	1. A Firstborn Witch In Spring

Izumi sneezed into her handkerchief. She folded it over to wipe at weeping eyes next. “Can’t get away from pollen even in the city, huh.”

It was better than the countryside at least, although that was a verylow bar to clear. It would take more than a runny nose to stop her from this errand.

She checked the address on the back of the letter and then the building in front of her.

24 Veludo Way. It was definitely the right place then, but the boarded up windows made her doubt herself.

She knocked on the door. No answer.

“Hello?” she called loudly. “My name is Izumi Tachibana. I’m here to answer a letter addressed to my father?”

Still, nothing. She tried the doorknob and froze for a split second when she realized it was unlocked.

“Helloooooo?” she called again as she took a tentative step inside. “Anyone home?”

The floor was clean, but the walls still had a thick layer of dust on them. Like someone cared just enough to clean up but not enough to do a good job at it. The lights further down the hall were on.

It felt ominous. She squeezed the handles of her purse, taking another step inside.

“HELLO?” she called even louder.

“ _Hi!_ ”

She let out a hysterical scream and whirled around, blindly swung her purse as hard as she could in the direction of the mysterious voice.

“ _Holy shit, what the hell! Fuck you too, damn!_ ”

A pink blur shot away like a bullet.

“ _Matsukawa, can you deal with this crazy woman? This is why_ you _should be the one to answer the damn door, not me, asshole!_ ”

She heard rushed footsteps come from within coming towards the entryway where she stood. A man rounded the corner and paused to stare at her incredulously. He was older than her—or maybe that was just the impression she got from his unshaven face.

“…You invited yourself in!” the man exclaimed in surprise. “Sure, why not. Don’t mind Kamekichi too much, he’s got a sharp tongue but he means well.”

In hindsight, maybe breaking in because she got impatient had been a bad idea. “I’m sorry! Nothing happened when I knocked the first few times and the door was unlocked so…” Whatever. The first impression had already been made. “Are you Mr. Matsukawa?”

“Mr. Matsukawa would be my father. You can just call me Matsukawa,” the mop headed stranger said, chuckling. “Is there something you need?”

“Is this a bad time?” she asked, staring at the paint smudges all over his face. Matsukawa’s glasses looked like they were broken in the middle, held together poorly by only the power of Scotch tape.

“Not at all! I was just cleaning up. This building hasn’t been used in a long time and a monster of a clutter’s built up over the years.” He took his glasses off and wiped the lenses with the hem of his jacket. He put them back on, miraculously somehow more smudged than they’d been before.

Izumi blinked and then opened her purse to take out the letter. “This recently got delivered to our house. It’s addressed to my father, Yukio Tachi—"

“Oh! So you’re _Yukio’s_ daughter!” Matsukawa visibly relaxed at this revelation. “I saw your name on the purple pages. Izumi, right? Now I’m starting to get the picture. I certainly didn’t expect him to send kin instead of showing up himself though. Is he doing okay?”

Izumi cleared her throat. “That’s actually why I came out here to talk to you. I’m afraid there hasn’t been any news or sightings of my father for the past eight years. I didn't even open the envelope, I didn't want to intrude. Thought this was something you deserved to know though.”

The man looked stunned.

Matsukawa quickly collected himself, fidgeting with the cuff of his battered suit that had definitely seen better days. “Ah… I see. I offer my condolences, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories by sending that letter."

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s been years and we’ve all learned to accept it. He’ll show up when he’s ready to and not a moment before, I guess.” She forced a laugh she didn’t feel. “We were surprised to be getting a letter from Mankai Coven though. We figured it was gone forever.”

“It was certainly inactive for a very long time.” Matsukawa stood to the side and gestured towards what she guessed was a living room. "Please, come in. I should at least do the decency of explaining what’s going on over some tea."

* * *

Matsukawa poured her a cup and sat across from her. “As you know, your father and his colleagues founded the Mankai Coven decades ago with the intent of educating magicians that had nowhere else to turn to. Mankai became renowned in the magical world, making a name for itself by churning out more and more powerful magicians with each passing year.”

“But then there were less magicians in need of teaching as time went on,” Izumi finished. The tea tasted soapy. “Mankai didn’t have a purpose to exist anymore.”

“Unfortunately yes. As the first generation of magicians left and every subsequent generation brought in fewer numbers than the last, Mankai eventually had no more students.” Matsukawa shrugged. “The Founders shut down Mankai and dispersed, leaving the building to my father.”

The Matsukawa Line, the caretakers of a school’s ruins.

“Thank you for taking such good care of it for all these years,” was all she could say.

“Oh no, it was our pleasure. This building is a testament to good will in a world that badly needs it. Tending to it is a part of my family’s pride.” Matsukawa grinned and slapped his knee. “I started writing letters to your father because he was the only founder who’s address I could find in our archives.”

“And you needed him for…?” she pressed lightly.

His smile faded. “Last month, I came across a Firstborn Witch in desperate need of a teacher. I’ve been housing him here ever since. I’m not going to lie, I was really hoping your dad would be willing to come out of retirement.”

Izumi’s eyes widened. “A Firstborn Witch? Are you serious? It’s been _years_ since one’s been discovered.”

“He passed the affinity test and is a one hundred percent, bona fide Witchling,” Matsukawa said. “Neither of his parents have any reported magic at all so a Firstborn is the only answer. Talent like his can’t go to waste and I absolutely can’t just toss a kid onto the streets.”

Izumi bit her lower lip. “Of course not. It can be a dangerous world for Witches.”

Especially a Firstborn Witch. 

No one could have seen that coming.

Sure, humans with magic popped up every now and then from outside of the established Bloodlines. But they were always Casters or Hunters—humans who could go their whole lives without ever realizing they had the potential for the fantastical.

A _Witch_ though… Everyone had accepted that Firstborn Witches were things of the past by now.

Firstborns were powerful, powerful things, Izumi mused to herself. A mortal born with pure magic in their veins. The magic, like a hereditary condition, would become diluted through the generations (like herself, a fourth generation Witch who could just barely heat up a teapot by snapping her fingers), but Firstborns were _pure_ magic. And throughout history, pure magic in Witches could be…

Izumi winced. Explosive.

“Can I meet him?” Izumi asked.

Matsukawa cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sakuya! Come on out, there’s somebody you need to meet.”

A door down one of the twisting halls opened.

A young boy with thick magenta locks and eyes like garnets popped his head out. “You called?”

“This is Izumi Tachibana! The daughter of that man I was telling you about.”

The boy (Sakuya, was it?) hesitated, eyes flicking back and forth between Izumi and Matsukawa like he didn’t know what to do.

“Does… Does she know…?” he asked in a low voice.

“Oh! Don’t worry about that, Fourthborn Witch here,” she said immediately. She snapped her fingers and sent a cookie flying until it bobbed right in front of the boy. “I know a thing or two.”

He plucked it from the air, eyes wide. “Whoa… How did you do that?”

“Trust me, you’re going to _so_ many more impressive things than that.” She stood and walked closer to him, holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Sakuya. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Firstborn Witch before today.”

He shook it tentatively, and Izumi almost laughed at how clammy his hands were. She hoped she wasn’t scaring him. “Sorry. I don’t really know what, uh, all of that Firstborn stuff is about.”

“Firstborns are humans who are born with magic but don’t come from magician parents,” Izumi explained kindly. “My great-grandmother was a Firstborn Witch, my grandfather was a Secondborn, my father a Thirdborn, thus I am the Fourthborn. Magic tends to lose its punch after each kid so my abilities are limited, but you…”

“Me?”

Izumi grinned wide. “You’re going to be able to do so much more than I could’ve ever imagined for myself. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Sakuya flushed. The tips of his ears turning so red they blended into his hair. “I-I’m not really all that. I’ve got no idea what I’m doing, to be honest.”

“None of us do when we start out.” Izumi glanced over her shoulder towards Matsukawa. “Why’d you ask for my father exactly? I would have thought you’d teach him yourself.”

Matsukawa snorted. “Please. I’m absolute garbage at magic _and_ teaching. I’m out of the question.”

Hm. Izumi set her jaw and made the decision then and there. “I may not be my father but I’d love to stick around and teach Sakuya what I can. There should be a Caster somewhere in this city willing to pitch in to cover the gaps too. I’ll help you find one.”

Matsukawa slumped over and gave weary, relieved sigh. “Thank _God_. I had no idea what I was going to do if you hadn’t offered."

“I won’t be a bother, will I?” Sakuya asked nervously.

“Nonsense!” Izumi put a fist on each hip and offered a wide-mouthed smile. “I might not be much but it’ll be better than nothing. Being a Witch and not knowing what’s going on must have been hard.”

Sakuya offered a timid nod. “It’s definitely been… something. Not too bad though.”

“Do you know how to do any magic? Or are we working with a blank slate?”

Sakuya fidgeted. “Basically blank slate, yeah. All I can really do is this.”  
  
He pressed his palms together and laced his fingers, looking like he was about to spout prayers. When he slowly parted his palms, he showed Izumi a floating ball of golden fire that twisted in on itself, happily dancing like candlelight. 

She took in a surprised breath through her nose, staring at the flame.

“Oh, _wow_ ,” Izumi managed at last. 

“I know it’s not much—”

“No, no, Sakuya, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not unimpressed, I’m…” The complete opposite, really. She struggled to find a way to phrase her sentiments without freaking him out. “Stunned, I suppose is the right word. I’ve never seen someone summon golden fire before.”

“Never? Is it some kind of bad thing?” Panic crept into his voice.

“Creating fire in general is a very difficult form of magic, Sakuya,” Matsukawa said, nibbling on a rice cracker. “Heating things up is difficult as is but a fire is a reaction that requires constant feeding of energy.”

“Oh.” He blinked and looked at the thing between his palms, before clapping right over it and extinguishing the flame. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize!” Izumi thought for a moment and began tying her hair up with a spare elastic on her wrist. “Looks like things are going to be interesting. When do you want to start?”

Sakuya’s eyes sparkled. “Can we—Can we start as soon as possible?”

Before she could reply, his stomach growled. Sakuya turned an even darker red as Izumi laughed.

“Maybe dinner first, then,” she said, rolling her sleeves up. “Matsukawa, you mind if I put something together using whatever I can find in the fridge?”

“ _Food?_ Go right on ahead. Any plans?” he asked.

“Curry would be good for a day like this."

* * *

“So… So you said you were a Fourthborn, right?” Sakuya asked, staring at her with starry eyes as she brought over the giant pot. “Growing up with magic must have been incredible."

_Growing up_ with magic was maybe stretching it but this wasn’t the time or place to get into her upbringing.

“Magic’s always fascinated me,” Izumi said fondly, handing him a plateful of rice and curry. “Even though I’m no good at it. Like I said, Fourthborns don’t have much latent potency. I couldn’t ever do half the things my father could, much less what _you_ have the potential to do. But doesn’t matter, magic is still incredible.”

“Are there more people with magic? Or is it just us in the entire city?” Sakuya asked through a full mouth as he crammed in spoonful after spoonful of curry.

Izumi laughed. “Slow down, you’ll choke. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Sakuya turned pink again. “Sorry. It’s just been a while since we’ve had good food. Matsukawa and I, uh, neither of us are good at cooking so it’s been a month of microwave meals and some,” Sakuya winced here, “more interesting meal solutions.”

Matsukawa was putting together a second plate for himself after having already inhaled the first. “There are a handful things I’m good at in this world and cooking isn’t one of ‘em! I’m not ashamed to admit it."

Izumi laughed louder. “Going back to your first question; there are tons of magicians in this city, even right near Veludo Way. This _is_ a historic monument to Covens in Japan, after all.”

“Covens?” Sakuya asked, perking up. “It wasn’t just Mankai?”

“No, Mankai was just one of the originals. One of the greatest! First to rise, last to…” Izumi’s voice pattered out. She sighed sadly and ignored the subtle ache in her chest. “Last to fall.”

“Fall?”

“There were no more Firstborns showing up,” she said simply. “Magic’s been dying out in recent years. Without Firstborns, there’s no need for Covens to exist. Bloodlines ended up having all the kids to teach, so there was nothing Covens could do except shut down one by one.”

Sakuya’s eyes widened. “What are Bloodlines? How are they different from Covens?”

“Bloodlines are just a fancy name for magic families. I’m from the Takahashi, now Tachibana Bloodline,” she explained. “The Firstborn in my family was my great grandmother, Hina Takahashi. Magic’s hereditary but gets weaker with each generation that includes a magic-less parent. Every one of my magical ancestors married a magic-less, so magic doesn’t come naturally to me. My children or grandchildren probably won’t have even a drop if I marry the same.”

“Oh…” Sakuya hesitated. “That sounds a little sad.”

“It’s just how it is.” Izumi began rummaging through her purse to find a book. “Some Bloodlines go through any means necessary to preserve magical potency through the generations, whether it’s through marriage exclusive to other magicians or—” She cut herself off, upper lip curling. “Or… through other measures. Nasty business. Anyways, Bloodlines usually homeschool their offspring and look down on adoption or teaching ‘outsiders.' Covens were established to provide for Firstborns who didn't have the resource of family."

She found the damn thing in a side pocket filled with gum wrappers. She tossed the matchbox sized book onto the table and pressed her thumb against the cover. It grew in size to something more practical for reading.

“How did you do that?” Sakuya asked in awe.

Izumi smiled. It’d been a while since she’d seen such unhindered curiosity about magic, maybe the first time since she’d seen it in herself. As always, it was refreshing.

“It’s not that difficult. It’s a charmed book, so it only needs a little bit of magic energy to shrink or grow. This book is called the purple pages and lists the registered Bloodlines of each town or city in Japan.” She flipped open to a bookmarked page. "You can see there’s a handful of them in this very city. The Sumeragi Bloodline for one, those guys are real serious. Very famous, _very_ powerful Hunters. Then there are the smaller, lesser known Bloodlines. Kind of like mine, fine with marrying magic-less but still keeping the culture alive. The Arisugawas—talented Casters. The Minagi Bloodline, that one stretches back for _centuries_. I was thinking of getting in contact with some of them to help with your education.”

“Wow,” Sakuya whispered, looking down at the lavender sheets of paper with wonder in his eyes. “Wait, Caster? What’s a Caster?”

Izumi shot Matsukawa a glare. “What in the _world_ have you been teaching this kid for a full month?”

“Cleaning up this place wasn’t easy, you know!” he mumbled, still gorging himself.

“There are basically four kinds of affinities towards magic a magician can have,” Izumi said, now rummaging for a pen and paper in her purse to illustrate the concept. “Think of it as, er… Do you play RPGs?”

“I know of some.”

“You know how there are classes? Like, bard, or berserker. Same rule applies, there are four classes for magicians. We call those affinities.”

She drew a spade on the back of a Starbucks receipt. “There are Witches, which is what you are; the rarest affinity. Your blood is almost pure magic. Insanely powerful and very latent. Firstborn Witches tend to make their names well known in history, which is why the Bloodlines that stem from them are so proud of their heritage.”

Sakuya swallowed nervously and looked down at his hands before curling them into tight fists. Izumi raised her eyebrow but continued speaking. She drew a club and tapped it with the tip of her pen.

“Then you have Casters. Not as much magical power as Witches, maybe, but incredible with control and delicate work. If your magic is like a fire, then their magic is like putting a thread through a needle hole. Masters of magical study and usually the ones to go past the limits. Creative, brilliant minds.”

She drew a diamond. “Then you have your Hunters, they make up the majority of magicians nowadays. They’re magicians with capabilities meant specifically and exclusively for combat. Since magic’s kept under control now, there’s hardly been a need for them lately. Very few Hunters register a Bloodline and most just exist as magic-less."

“So… So they just give up on magic?” Sakuya asked, voice horrified like he couldn’t imagine doing such a thing.

Izumi shrugged. “Their magic doesn't flare up unintentionally so there's no need for them to learn control. That, along with the fact that there's no use for their magic anymore. It's easier for them to reject the existence of it.”

Sakuya worked his lips. “That’s even sadder.”

“I certainly think so, but you have to understand that pursuing magic is a right people can reject. Hunters rejecting their birthright just means less violence overall, which is a good thing.” Izumi drew a final heart and circled it. “And the final class are Seers, the second rarest. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Firstborn Seer either, and there aren’t many famous Seer Bloodlines in Japan.”

“What can Seers do?”

“See things,” Matsukawa interjected, and then laughed loudly while slapping his knee.

Izumi rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah. He’s not wrong. They can see visions of the future, they have a small reserve of latent magical energy they can do spells with, and rumors say that the most powerful Seers can even see the thoughts in your head.”

“Psychics?” Sakuya asked. “Do you mean _psychics?_ "

“Sure, if you want to put it that way.” She shut the book and shrank it. “Don’t worry yourself about it. Seer magic isn’t something Witches can access, so there’s no need to keep it in mind.”

Sakuya sat up straight. “I want to. I want to know everything there is to know about magic. If it’s not too much of a bother, I’d like you to teach me absolutely everything you know.”

Izumi stared at him and felt something happy bubble in her stomach. There was a stubborn, unflinching look of _want_ for knowledge in Sakuya’s eyes. It was almost like she was looking at a younger version of herself, except Sakuya would actually be able to accomplish all of the spells she’d jealously stared at on the pages of her father’s precious tomes.

It was ridiculously exciting to witness.

“Magic is a draining thing, even for a Witch,” she said, reminding herself to calm down. “I’ll do absolutely everything I can in my power to help you with the process, Sakuya. But I recommend you go to bed early tonight. I’m sure it’s been an exciting day.”

He scratched the back of his head and laughed dryly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep even if I tried, I’m just so excited.”

“Alright then, you can have this.” She tossed him the Purple Pages which he caught in his left hand. “Start reading up on a few names since… who know, a few of those Bloodlines might be peeking in soon to give you a pearl of wisdom or two. I’m going to start getting a lesson plan ready for you tonight and then we can see where it goes from there.”

“Thank you, Miss Tachibana!” Sakuya said brightly.

She gagged. “Oh God, that name makes me feel so old. Please don’t.”

“What can I call you then?”

Matsukawa snorted as he collected the plates. “Well, traditionally you would call the leader of a Coven the High Priestess.”

“ _Absolutely not_.”

Sakuya thought for a moment and clapped his hands when a lightbulb went off. “Director!”

“Huh?”

“I can call you the Director. Like, uh, I’m an actor, and you’re showing me how everything works.” He flushed pink. “Uh, I’m a part of the drama club in high school so it’s just a word I’m fond of.”

Izumi repeated, “Director,” like trying out the taste of it. She shrugged. “Alright, sure. Whatever you’d like, Sakuya.”

“Thank you, Director!”

And the bright smile he gave her made everything worth it.

She had a phone call to the Minagi family she had to make.

* * *

“ _Someone’s at the door! Someone’s at the door!_ ” Kamekichi squawked the next morning. “ _Do I answer it, ya lazy bums?_ ”

“I got it! That one’s probably for me,” Izumi said, sprinting through the kitchen and the living room to get to the entry hall.

The small cockatoo with the rude mouth, Matsukawa’s family familiar, had apparently been left in charge of answering the door while Matsukawa was putting the Coven dorms back in order. Luckily, the little creature forgave her poor introduction upon receiving a handful of birdseed and there were no hard feelings between them.

“Director! Look what I can do now,” Sakuya called as she swept past him. She spared a glance over her shoulder to watch Sakuya repeatedly press his thumb against the covers of the purple pages, shrinking and growing it over and over again, hopelessly in love with the act.

Izumi threw him two thumbs up. “Proud of you, Sakuya! Keep it up, you’re doing great.”

Another knock at the door. She put on a big smile she hoped was inviting and threw it open.

Not expecting to see the awkward teenaged boy who stood on the other side of it.

The tall, lanky, probably-college-student offered an uncomfortable wave. “Uh, hi. My name is Tsuzuru Minagi, third eldest son of the most recent generation of Minagi. Are you Izumi Tachibana?” 

“Yes I am!” she said brightly, seizing the hand that was waving and giving it a warm shake. “Thank you so much for coming over. Sorry if I looked surprised, I was expecting one of your parents to show up."

“They're currently out of the prefecture for a conference so they sent me to answer instead.” Tsuzuru leaned in closer and whispered, "Is it true? A Firstborn Witch right in this very city?”

Izumi preened. So what if she only knew Sakuya for a day? She was already proud of having him as a student. “Yep. And no prior teaching of magic. The kid needs a tutor to help him out and I was hoping that that was where your parents… or you, since you’re here now, could step in.”

Tsuzuru chuckled sheepishly. “Listen, I should be frank before any agreements are made. I’m not very powerful. I hope your expectations aren’t high."

“You’re speaking to a Fourthborn Witch from a _very_ magic-less infused Bloodline. I won’t be able to give any examples of magic above the bare basics and Sakuya deserves more than that,” she replied. "Trust me, Tsuzuru, any and all help we can get for him is a blessing.”

“His name is Sakuya then?”

“The kid’s an angel, you’ll love him. Come on in, he’s right here,” and she opened the door wider, beckoning him inside.

The Caster hesitated for just a moment more before he took the bait and went inside. He slipped his ratty sneakers off and left them on the shoe rack. “Please pardon the intrusion.”

“Sakuya!” Izumi called, leading towards the kitchen.

He was still sitting in the same chair, pushing the cover of Purple Pages with glee. He glanced up, smile radiant. “Yes, Director?”

“This is Tsuzuru, from the Minagi family I told you about last night. Caster.” Izumi turned next to Tsuzuru and gestured to Sakuya. “And this is Sakuya, the Firstborn Witch who desperately needs help.”

Sakuya craned his neck to look at Tsuzuru from past the Director.

“Are you here to teach me how to do magic?” he asked with a big smile, glowing like the sun.

Hook, line, and sinker. No one could say no to that face in a million years. Izumi snorted. “Yes, Tsuruzu, are you?"

Tsuzuru clenched his teeth but in the end could not resist. “Er, fine. I’ll teach you one thing today, Witchling. But I’ll have to speak to my parents before any real decisions are made."

Izumi rolled her eyes and checked off “ _find a tutor”_ on her mental checklist.

* * *

“Magic is pure energy that can be molded to become anything,” Tsuzuru lectured as they sat at the table in the “study." A bare room with minimal furniture and empty shelves that may have, yes, at one point been used as someone’s study. “That’s where spells come in. They’re what guide magic energy and transform it accurately to become what you need. Harnessing energy takes a lot of control and focus. I want you to watch what I do and copy it.”

Sakuya didn’t say anything but if his eyes grew any wider, they would pop right out of his skull. Tsuzuru touched the surface of the water in the cup and the tip of his finger glowed bright blue. He drew a swirling symbol on the water and took his hand away. The strange sign flashed with light and instantly the water in the cup turned to ice.

There was a high pitched noise like a kettle singing. Tsuzuru blinked and realized the sound was coming from Sakuya.

“Uhh, you alright?”

“That was so cool!” Sakuya burst out with stars twinkling in his eyes. “What was that symbol? How did you draw just using your finger?”

Tsuzuru took a mental picture of the pure worshipping in Sakuya’s eyes and decided to relish in pride when he was on his own later.

“Casters use Runes most of the time to translate magic. We don’t have as much raw magical energy as you do, so we use Runes to amplify intent. It’s important for control as well.” Tsuzuru uncapped the Expo marker and drew the same swirling symbol in green on the whiteboard. “This is the Rune for _Freeze_. I want you to do the same thing to your own cup.”

“I don’t know how to do the finger glow-y thing that you did,” Sakuya said, immediately growing nervous.

“Doesn’t surprise me, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Witches who use Runes. But it’s the only form of magic I know, and you’re the first Firstborn Witch in years from what I can tell, so you might as well try.” Tsuzuru shrugged. “If it doesn’t work out, then we’ll just have to find a method that does.”

Sakuya bobbed his head. “Okay, I’ll, uh, I’ll give it a shot.”

He jabbed his finger into the cup and swirled it around.

Nothing happened.

Tsuzuru snapped his fingers three times to catch Sakuya’s attention. “Keep your wrist loose. Let the magic energy flow out. Remember, all the Rune does is act as a guide for that energy.”

“Right, right, right, sorry.” The Witch took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He repeated the little swirl.

* * *

_BANG._

Izumi dropped her pen. Had a _bomb_ gone off? She sprinted for the study room and threw the door open. 

“Is everything alright—?!” The words caught in her throat as she stepped onto the layer of snow on the ground.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Sakuya squeaked, tears already welling in his eyes. “How do I undo it?”

Tsuzuru reached a hand up to wipe frost off his face. He blinked away the snowflakes that clung to his eyelashes, teeth chattering all the while. The table between them, cups included and all, was frozen in a solid block of ice.

“Okay, so Runes that amplify magic was _not_ a good idea,” Tsuzuru said finally.

Sakuya wailed again, brushing bits of ice off his shirt.

Izumi ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled. Teaching a Witch would be harder than she’d thought.


	2. The Unforeseen Seer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuzuru moves in. Masumi falls in love. Izumi is stopped on the streets by a man who asks her for help getting rid of the ghost following him around that kind of wants to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, I spilled red wine all over my laptop and sat at the kitchen table brooding for an hour

Tsuzuru moved in the next day, which Izumi found hilarious considering how adamant the Caster had been about “not making any hasty decisions."

“What the hell are in these things,” Matsukawa grunted as he helped carry in the boxes. “Bricks?”

“Close.” Tsuzuru opened one and took out a thick, leather-bound book. “The Holy Bible. A hundred and seventy copies of it, actually."

“…Tsuzuru, you’re christian?” Sakuya asked. “Like, devout?”

Izumi leaned in closer and whispered, “Why question the level of devoutness?”

“I mean, why else would he own a hundred and seventy copies?”

The corner of Tsuzuru’s lips twitched. “Well, my family is catholic, yes. But I’m also helping a friend of mine sell these since he bought five hundred by accident last month.”

Sakuya squinted. “How—How do you buy five hundred bibles _by accident?_ ”

“I asked him the same question,” Tsuzuru said bitterly and dropped the bible back into the box. “The art department’s making him earn the money back so he asked some of us to be re-sellers.”

The young Witch hummed. “Are all Witches catholic?”

“Kiddo, we do magic, not know what goes on up there,” Izumi said with a snort. “You can be any religion you want. Or none. Your choice.”

Tsuzuru tore a long strip of duct tape off of one box. “A lot of Firstborn Casters tend to become very devoted worshippers though. I figure it’s them trying to find explanations for the weird abilities they have. Where do you think all those 'miracle working' priests pop up from?”

Sakuya's jaw dropped. “You’re _kidding_.”

The Caster laughed. “We had a ‘miracle worker’ issue in this city last year actually. My dad thought we were looking at a Firstborn Caster for sure, but no, the guy was just that insanely good of a doctor.”

Matsukawa brought in another box, mop hair thick with sweat. “W-Where do I put this one?”

“All the boxes marked with purple tape are for the lab,” Tsuzuru said, taking the box from the manager and heading to the room across the hall. "Thank you for your help, Matsukawa. There should be a couple more by the entrance."

The manager moaned and went off to fetch them.

Sakuya trotted after Tsuzuru like a baby duckling would its mother. “Lab? You have a lab? Why? Is it for science things or magic things?"

“Magic things. Casters tend to need a dedicated space reserved for experiments,” he explained. “The lab at my family's house is a proper one, but I can make do with what I have here.”

“What do you mean ‘experiments?’ _Magic_ experiments?”

Tsuzuru tore the box open and pulled out a convenient whiteboard slate and a green Expo marker. He began drawing Runes.

“So as you know, Runes are a binary form of magic Casters use,” he said, immediately adopting the voice of a tenured professor instead of an awkward college student. “But most Runes are just singular words and intentions. Casters knit Runes together in varying patterns to create new outcomes and possibilities. Here, let me give an example.”

He trotted to the open doorway and, with that glowing blue ink from his fingertip that stayed suspended in the air, drew a Rune. It flashed, and disappeared. “This is the most basic Rune for _Barrier_. Miss Tachibana, if you would?”

Izumi cringed. “Oh, call me Director, Tsuzuru, I’m really not that old.”

Nevertheless, she pressed her fingers against the invisible wall, showing Sakuya that her hand would not be able to cross the threshold of the room.

“That’s so cool!” he gushed.

“Yes, and it gets cooler. The _Barrier_ Rune only lasts for a few minutes at best. But if you add the Rune for _Extension, Electricity, Noise, Activation,_ and _Silence_ —“ Tsuzuru scribbled each Rune as he said it and the noise promptly cut out when he wrote _Silence_. Izumi clicked her tongue. Sound proofing a room was fine, but it was a little rude to do it right in front of her.

Tsuzuru gestured for her to touch the invisible wall again.

Two things happened when she reached a hand forward. A small spark shocked Izumi's fingers, tearing a shocked yelp right out of her, and Sakuya clapped his hands over his ears like a noise was going off on the other side.

Izumi was starting to get the feeling that Tsuzuru could be kind of a little shit sometimes. He had an asshole grin plastered on as he released the Rune barrier, exposing her to the obnoxious alarm reverberating through the lab.

“Do you have to be so smug over making an overly glorified security system?” Izumi asked sourly.

Tsuzuru only smiled bigger. He waved his hand and silenced the alarm. “You’re mad because the wall shocked you. But to be fair, you were the one to willingly touch the thing after knowing I put an electricity Rune on it.”

“I know where you sleep now, Tsuzuru, I’ll shave your eyebrows off if you cross me enough.”

“Oh please, ‘Director,’ I grew up with seven younger brothers. These are my fifth pair, you'll have to do better than that.”

She gritted her teeth. Damn Casters. Obnoxious bastards.

* * *

Izumi realized that she adored teaching magic, actually, and was very upset that she hadn’t had the experience of doing so before.

“Could I make spells like Tsuzuru one day?” Sakuya asked, eyes sparkling and pencil poised over his notebook to diligently take notes.

“Well, technically, I suppose so. But it would be an unusual thing.” Izumi tried to find that Beginner’s Tome among her collection of spell books. “Leave spell-making to the Casters. Delicate work, remember? They can handle a few mistakes here and there but a Witch's mistake could mean burning down a building. So _do not experiment with magic_ , Sakuya. Especially if Tsuzuru or I aren't there to keep an eye on you. Casters experiment, Witches carry out.”

He frowned a little at that. “Is that why the entire room froze when I tried to use a Rune?”

She laughed. “Kiddo, you really have no idea how much power you have, huh?”

There it was. She slipped out the Beginner’s Tome, a dinky little pink booklet that looked more like a Driver’s Ed manual than a grimoire, and tossed it over.

“It took me a year to learn all of these spells and figure out how to use them,” Izumi said. “For context on the difference between your capabilities and mine, I expect you to get through this in two weeks. Then we can move on to some bigger things, but mind you that’s where I’ll be teaching you from theory more than experience.”

Sakuya held the tome to his chest like it was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. He had that look again, the one that made his cheeks go pink and his eyes shine.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I’ll do my best!”

Izumi had to pat his head. “I know you will. C’mon, turn to page one. I’ll help you figure out how to levitate things.”

And it was later, when she had to ask Matsukawa help with removing forks embedded in the ceiling, that she realized they should not have started off levitation with silverware.

* * *

Tsuzuru accepted his plate of curry. “Should I ask about the holes in the ceiling?”

“No,” she said cheerfully, ending the conversation before it even really began.

* * *

The next day, Sakuya came home from school just as Izumi was finishing her second cup of coffee.

“Director! Director, come say hi! This is my underclassman from drama club,” Sakuya called excitedly.

She put the cup in the sink and walked over to the entry hall where Sakuya was showing his friend the shoe rack hidden behind a pile of old newspapers. Maybe it was because he was standing right next to Sakuya, the very personification of sunlight itself, but Izumi thought this friend looked extra moody and glum. Headphones, oddly dyed hair, colorful shirt with a black jacket.

Ahhhh. Grunge, she realized. Maybe a new take on scene fashion? Youth, how she missed it.

“Nice to meet you! My name’s Izumi,” she said, holding out a hand.

The kid took one look at her and went wide-eyed. He didn’t reach out to return the handshake, so she cleared her throat and let her arm drop.

“Wow, your mom is really young,” the kid said at last.

Despite the immediate torrent of horror, humor, and hysteria that seized Izumi’s soul, Sakuya was the first one to turn red and begin spluttering.

“Izumi isn’t my mom!” he gasped. “How old do you think she is?! Say sorry right now!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Izumi said kindly, despite knowing she would go to bed later that night and have a mid-life crisis paired with half a bottle of wine. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

“…Masumi. Masumi Usui."

The kid had a weird, intense sort of stare. Izumi stood in silence, not knowing what to say next, and then resigned herself to just exiting the conversation. “Alright, well, thank you for being a friend to Sakuya. There are snacks in the fridge, you guys can help yourselves.”

As she turned to leave, Masumi took a step forward.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said flatly.

“ _Masumi!_ ” Sakuya said with a frown.

Izumi didn’t know what to say to that. “…Thank you?"

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“ _MASUMI!_ ”

Izumi forced a fake laugh and decided that that was _definitely_ a sign to head towards her bedroom. “That’s very sweet. Anyways, just let me know if you two need anything. I’ll skedaddle to leave you alone now.”

“You can stay,” Masumi replied, scooting even closer. “I want to get to know you. Are you single?”

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath as she hurried down the hall. High school boys could be such nightmares.

* * *

Later that afternoon, there was a knock at her bedroom door.

“Yes?” she answered.

Matsukawa stood outside with a small wooden box in hand. “Hey. Just got something in the mail I think you’d out to know about. May I come in?”

She stood aside and gestured to the low-rise table. They each took a seat on either side of it.

Matsukawa opened the box and showed her a vial of tar-like goo inside it. “The city’s Council sent this to every Bloodline. A house spirit on the Sumeragi property allegedly attacked a maid—”

“House spirits aren’t malevolent,” she interrupted.

“This one was. I mean, allegedly, like I said. They said it wouldn’t calm down no matter what they tried to do and slaying it was the only option they had left. _This_ stuff poured out of the carcass right afterwards. Direct quote from the note was ‘in copious quantitates.’ They’re spreading samples as a warning.”

Izumi took the vial and uncorked it, raising it to her nose for a sniff.

“Holy _mother of God_ ,” she yelped, slapping a hand over her mouth to stop the sudden rush of bile that came up. She rubbed her nose to banish the acrid scent clinging stubbornly to her sinuses.

Matsukawa’s face was grim. “It’s a magic canceller.”

“In _slime form?_ This is essentially poison, how could it be inside a house spirit’s body?”

“That’s why the Sumeragis and the Council are so concerned. It’s a singular case with no leads but you should definitely be kept informed on it."

She stopped up the vial and placed it back in the box. “Should we hand this off to Tsuzuru? He’ll know what to do with it better than me.”

“Then I’ll go drop this off in his lab.” Matsukawa got up. “Ah, on a second note. Thank you so much for cooking dinner again tonight. I have to ask though since it’s the third time we’ve had curry. Do you think there’s something else you could…?”

Izumi jabbed him in his chest firmly. “Don’t. You. Dare. Curry is good always.”

“But—”

“Always!”

“Noted! I’ll take my leave now."

* * *

Tsuzuru stumbled out of his lab and slammed something onto the breakfast table. Sakuya and Izumi both started in surprise.

“This is for you,” he said, staring point blank at Izumi.

She picked up the knife with lips pursed tight. “Wow. _Very_ romantic, Tsuzuru, I’m swooning. Is there a hidden meaning behind giving me this?”

“I don’t know exactly _what_ that disgusting goop Matsukawa gave me is, but at the very least I can tell it’s concentrated anti-magic. I don’t like the idea of you walking around defenseless until we learn more about where it came from.”

Modern feminism demanded Izumi to feel insulted. “I’m not _defenseless_ , I took Krav Maga for two years in university. Why give me a knife, why not Sakuya?”

Tsuzuru raised an eyebrow. “Sakuya, can you please tell the Director what I told you to do if something ever tries to hurt you?”

“ _Explosion, Flare,_ and _Barrier_ Runes, in that order,” the high school boy repeated dutifully. “Then I wait for help.”

“The EXPLOSION RUNE?” Izumi snapped, jaw dropping. “He could destroy a small park! Are you insane?!”

“Relax, I only taught him the version we’d use to pop balloons.”

“He’s a Firstborn Witch! If he uses what you or I would to pop balloons, we’d be getting our door broken down by Homeland Security!”

“Which would prove a point to whatever’s attacking him. At the very least, it’ll buy him the time he needs for us to track him down.” Tsuzuru pointed to the knife. “Sakuya and I are fine. _You_ should carry around a knife. I’m not coddling or belittling you, I’m being pragmatic. Especially since you’re not familiar with the city yet.”

Izumi scowled.

Sakuya, ever the angel, gave her a supportive thumbs up. “It’s a really cool looking knife though, Director! I’m sure it’ll, uh, be easy to coordinate with outfits?”

“You’re a paranoid one,” she still shot at the Caster, snapping the knife’s blade into the handle and shoving it into her belt loop.

Tsuzuru finally let himself collapse onto a chair after a long night of work and reached for some toast. “No, this is a measured response. I tasted the slime—”

“You _what_.”

“Relax. I sampled a very diluted amount, just to see what the effects would be. Spent two hours hunched over the toilet emptying my stomach. No substance that strong is a good thing.”

Izumi rubbed her temples. “You’re the reason why laundry detergent has child safety locks, huh.”

He only snorted as he started scarfing down breakfast.

* * *

She was so angry that Tsuzuru had been right to be paranoid.

It was _supposed_ to have been just a short, uncomplicated trip to a secondhand bookstore. All of Matsukawa’s missing books had to have gone somewhere. It happened sometimes—secondhand stores always put them in the For Hipsters and Aspiring Wiccans aisles even though magic-less wouldn’t be able to do squat with tomes. (Izumi hadn’t found any of the missing books but she _had_ found a very trashy romance novel for fifty cents so, the journey had been worth it.)

At least, it’d been worth it until she realized that she was being followed.

She twitched when she realized she could hear something. Steps that trailed right after her own and had been for a while now.

It was nighttime.

The street was deserted except for her and her follower.

Izumi knew how this played out in movies and _boy_ was she not a fan.

“Excuse me, madam,” a voice from behind called.

_Nooooooo way_ , Izumi thought and sped up her pace. _Nope. Nope. Nope._

A hand grabbed her wrist. The subsequent wave of panic that swept over her left her mind in a condition that could only put together one coherent phrase. _Oh, fuuuuuuuuuuuck._

He was taller than her and had a swatch of black cloth covering most of his face. Steely blue eyes glinted, the only visible feature he had.

She was going to get murdered, wasn’t she? Izumi reached a fist back, getting ready to throw a punch. The stranger tore off the scarf and her arm stopped in its path.

Izumi stared, not having expected such a handsome face to have been underneath. For some reason, it did little to appease her anxiety—hot people could be murderers too, right?

“Please, you must help,” he said hurriedly, voice thick with an accent she couldn’t pin. “I do not know what to do about her.”

“Sir, are you alright?” she asked, trying to shake the uncomfortable grip he had on her arm. “Can you—let go of me?”

“You are magic!” the man cried, shaking her. “You can help me, yes?"

She struggled harder. “Holy shit, get… _off_ of me first!”

The streetlights overhead flickered. Izumi felt more panic swirl in her stomach like freezing cold water. Every hair on her body stood on edge as adrenaline rushed through her veins.

She spotted a dark figure standing a few meters away from them. Shadowy. Still. Silent. And, most importantly, radiating malevolent magical energy.

With each flash of darkness and light from the lamps above, it seemed to draw closer and closer.

Izumi's throat closed.

“You’re h-haunted?” she stammered, choking down the reflexive urge to just kick this guy as hard as she could in the thigh and run for dear life.

“You can help me!” the stranger repeated. “I do not know how to make her go!”

“TSUZURU!” Izumi screeched at the top of her lungs, hoping that maybe the Caster would be nearby. “ _SAKUYA!_ ”

The thing was even closer now. Izumi saw hints of pale, rotting skin—the bits that were visible and not shrouded by black mist. That was _not good_.

The stranger’s eyebrows drew together. “…She is right behind me, yes? Do not look at her. She will not hurt you, she will just... be loud. Ghost does not hurt if another person is here.”

The “ghost" crept forward until it was right behind him. A skeletal appendage lifted from the shroud. Slowly, it inched forward until tips of clawed bone touched the skin of Izumi’s own hand.

A thick, putrid chunk of purple meat reached out of its head as though tasting the air with a tongue that belonged to death.

“ _Do not trustsss this man, Witch-borne,_ ” the thing hissed.

Izumi couldn't move. 

“ _He reekssss of heartbreak._ ”

“I am a gentleman, not a breaker of hearts!” the stranger protested. “You are being brave, ghost. You do not speak when someone else is here.”

“She’s _speaking_ because we’re both magicians! Which means she’ll hurt us since we’re the only ones here!” Izumi bellowed.

She tore Tsuzuru's knife from her belt and flicked the blade out, driving it into the wraith’s head with a sickening _shhhnk._ The ghost emitted an unholy noise, half scream and half nails raking down chalkboard.

Izumi yanked the man towards her as she dashed down the street. “ _RUN_.”

Tsuzuru would be one smug little bastard if she got back alive, wouldn’t he? Actually, he’d probably be smug even if she died. Would probably tell them to chisel _I told you so_ right on her gravestone.

Izumi cursed the way towards Veludo for being so deserted. It wasn't even 10 o'clock, why was nobody outside? Just one person, just _one person_ …!

There!

Someone, she couldn’t tell who, was standing outside their house collecting mail. The wraith wouldn’t do anything violent if there was a magic-less around. Then at least Izumi would be able to get a hold of her bearings and plan the best course of action to take next.

_Lord, please be a mortal, please be a mortal, please be a mortal,_ Izumi pleaded in her head to a god she did not believe in as she kept sprinting to the figure down the street. The vague shape turned recognizable as the distance closed. It was that weird kid Sakuya had brought home the other day.

Izumi felt her knees nearly give out in relief. “Masumi! Thank Christ, I’m so happy to see you.”

The kid brightened visibly when he saw who was approaching. “Director? I was just thinking about you. I missed you so much. How did you know I lived here? Would you like to live here as well? Marry me.”

She’d ignore everything that came out of his mouth granted the situation they were in. Suddenly, Masumi’s small smile dropped as he glared coldly at her—acquaintance? Hostage? Kidnapper? What did she call the stranger standing behind her? What was their relationship?

“Who the hell are you?” he asked bitterly.

Izumi sucked in a well-deserved lungful of air. She shot the man behind her an ugly look. “I’d _love_ to hear the answer to that one as well.”

She shook him off at last. He seemed preoccupied, staring at Masumi with a furrowed brow—

“No, no, no!” the stranger cried. “He is magic as well! He cannot help us!”

“Excuse—?”

“ _HEARTBREAK!_ ” the wraith screamed as it flew towards them, jaw torn open to show its pointed teeth.

Masumi, to his credit, did not immediately pee his pants at the sight of it. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is that thing?”

“You can see it?!” Izumi wailed.

They were fucked. They were _so fucked_. What were the _astronomical_ chances that Sakuya’s one acquaintance she’d met would turn out to also be a magician?

(In that moment, as her life flashed before her eyes, Izumi realized that she’d forgotten to turn the stove off upon leaving the house that afternoon. An odd thing to recall when death was so close by.)

Masumi kept his gaze locked onto the fast-approaching wraith. “Is that thing bothering you?”

The ghost collided with the stranger's back, latching onto his flesh with its long talons. He let out a strangled yelp and pitched forward at the impact. The spirit leaned forward, teeth bared and ready to sink them into his neck. Izumi didn’t know what she was going to do but her body lunged forward to help, even if it meant she would have to shove her hand into that gaping open mouth to stop it from tearing out a throat.

Izumi could only describe the next second that passed as nothing but a blur.

She spent the handful of seconds after that one trying to process what had happened.

Masumi dropped the knife, the one that had been buried into the wraith’s head. The one that he’d torn out and used to stab the ghost in its neck, all in a flash of movement too quick to be normal.

They watched the wraith melt into nothingness with an anguished scream. The stranger underneath it remained motionless. He must have passed out.

Masumi slowly turned to Izumi, expression flickering between one of uncertainty and fear. “Are… you okay?”

She sank to her knees. “You’re a Hunter.”

Tears pricked in her eyes. Izumi buried her face in her hands and let out a shuddering dry sob as relief washed over her like warm water.

“Thank god,” she cried weakly. “I didn’t even know… you’re a _Hunter._ We totally lucked out, good lord—”

Masumi fidgeted. “Uh… I don’t really know what I did. Might have just killed someone. Am I gonna go to jail?”

Izumi brought him in for a big hug and made a noise somewhere on the spectrum of hysterical laugh and whimper. “No, no. You won’t go to jail. But I have a lot to explain, probably. Can you help me carry whoever this is back to the dorm? We can’t just leave him here.”

“You don’t know this guy?” Masumi asked.

“I don’t but I better get some answers or else I’ll be really ticked off.”

* * *

Matsukawa cleared his throat. “Director, I know we never formally discussed the business of bringing men to the dorms, but I’d ask that they be conscious at the very least.”

“Shove it, you mophead,” she huffed, tying a firm knot with the rope that bound the stranger to the chair.

Masumi thought this would be an appropriate moment to tug at her sleeve. “You could bring me in unconscious whenever you like. Promise.”

She felt a vein throb in her forehead as her blood pressure spiked. “Kid, one day we’re going to have to sit down and address your tendency towards _creepy_ behavior in depth, but for now I’m just going to give you the benefit of the doubt since we have a bigger problem on our hands.”

“Anything you want.”

Tsuzuru thankfully chose that moment to make an appearance. “What’s all the noise—?”

He paused, taking a good look at the scenario. He turned his gaze to Izumi and raised an eyebrow. She could only give an exhausted shrug in response.

“The sensical part of my brain is telling me not to get involved, but a bigger part of it is too curious to resist,” he admitted at last. “Mind if I ask for a debrief?”

“Someone was being haunted by a wraith and pulled me into the mess. _This_ guy,” she jabbed a thumb in Masumi’s direction, “is Sakuya’s friend from school who’s actually a Hunter and managed to save us. And this one,” she gave the Stranger’s platinum blonde head a light smack, “was the aforementioned one being chased. He passed out but I refuse to go sleep until I figure out what’s going on. I’m tying him up as a precaution in case he turns out to be dangerous.”

Tsuzuru shook his head and sighed. “You come from a line of Witches and you used _rope_ to keep him bound? Your ancestors are rolling in their graves.”

“Not everything has to be solved with magic, damn Caster.”

He rolled his eyes. “ _Someone’s_ cranky.”

Izumi felt like she was going to go insane. “I was attacked! I have a right to be a little cranky!”

“Alright, I’ll let you use the ‘just got out of a life or death situation’ card. Good thing you had a knife to use, huh?” The college student came closer and scribbled a Rune on the stranger’s forehead.

With a groan, he finally began to stir.

Sakuya poked his head into the living room, dressed in his pajamas with a towel over his damp hair. “Masumi? What are you doing here?”

“I’ll follow her wherever she goes,” Masumi said immediately, talking a step closer to Izumi. “I love her.”

“He’s a Hunter,” Izumi deadpanned. “Congrats, Sakuya, you’re a senior to him in terms of drama club _and_ magic."

Sakuya’s mouth formed wide O before he flung himself open armed towards Masumi. “You’re kidding! You’re a magician too?! That’s amazing! I’m a Witch, I’m really sorry I couldn’t tell you until now!”

“I don’t know what that means,” Masumi muttered, trying to wiggle out of Sakuya’s embrace.

“I’ll tell you everything I know, promise. You’re gonna love magic, it’s so interesting.”

“Whatever.”

Izumi snapped her fingers, drawing the attention of the high schoolers. “Maybe tomorrow over your sandwiches and juice boxes, kiddo. We have a bigger issue to butt heads with right now."

“Oh, right. I thought asking about the guy tied up would have been rude.”

The stranger cracked open one eye and looked around, glaze bleary.

“…Am I safe?” he asked with his words coming out a bit muddled.

“From the wraith, yes. From us… that depends on how you answer our questions,” Izumi said.

Tsuzuru shot her a judgmental look. “Really? Bad cop? Is Sakuya supposed to be the good cop then?”

“Shut it. What’s your name, haunted?"

“My name is Citron,” the stranger said warmly, tilting his head to the side and giving them a charming smile. “Thank you so for the helping. I did not know what I would do to fix it by myself. I had to stay with magic-less nonstop for the past week.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome. You really didn’t leave me much of a choice though, what with the arm grabbing and whatever. Where are you from, Citron?” Izumi asked.

He wiggled a little in his ties. “May you please reverse-bondage me?"

Matsukawa slapped his hands over Sakuya’s ears with a horrified shriek. Tsuzuru choked on his tongue.

“No,” Izumi seethed as her ears burned.

“Oh, quite a shame!” Citron said and let out a sigh. “I am visiting from another country. Things at my home were getting unpleasant! A vision told me to come to Japan for comfort and a new lodging."

“A vision?”

Citron just smiled again mysteriously.

Tsuzuru leaned in closer towards him and furrowed his brows. “You’re a Seer?”

“Yes!” Citron cried. “The very best in my country!”

Sakuya shrugged Matsukawa’s hands off the sides of his head. “You can see the future?”

“Among other things, Witchling,” he said sweetly. “The future comes to my eyes, as does the truth and the lost.”

“I get lost in your eyes, you know,” Masumi murmured to Izumi.

“Oh my god, Masumi, not now, please. Not ever if you can help it but I’m setting my expectations low.”

“Okay.”

Sakuya’s eyes had those stars again. “You know I’m a Witch?”

“I can see the fire that flows in your spirit. You’re a powerful one, are you not? Seers see all.”

Matsukawa chuckled. “That joke never gets old.”

“Why were you being haunted for a whole week?” Izumi asked, probing for more information. “You didn’t—you didn’t kill her, did you?"

Citron’s steel blue eyes turned sad. “I found the ghost girl alone when I was traveling to this city. I was the only one who could see her. I thought she would like someone to talk to, the ghosts in my home country can be very lonely. But she said she could not feel a crack in my heart, which means I must be the one to do the cracking. She was very angry with me and would not leave my side, saying she would take my heart out and break it herself. But physically, not joke.”

Tsuzuru clicked his tongue. “Ahhh. Wraith then for sure.”

“What’s a wraith?” Sakuya asked.

“Ghosts are… interesting concepts in the magic world,” Tsuzuru murmured. “Most of them can’t remember a thing from when they were alive but if they hold enough of a grudge upon death, they can turn into dangerous creatures. Wraiths are ghosts that hold _such_ an anger that they turn twisted and hunt based on that grudge.”

Sakuya made a noise of understanding and then turned to Citron with alarm “Oh… you’re a womanizer?”

“No!” Citron whined. “I am a gentleman!”

“Said every guy who left a trail of broken hearts in his path,” Matsukawa said sagely like he was all too familiar.

“ _No!_ ”

Tsuzuru tapped his chin. “Well, that would make sense. The wraith haunted you because she couldn't feel a broken heart in your chest. Then the only reason the wraith didn’t attack immediately when you spoke to the Director would be…”

Silence as everyone connected the dots.

Izumi went red in the face.

Tsuzuru opened his mouth but shut it immediately. He clapped a fist over his lips to muffle a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

“It’s not funny, brat,” Izumi seethed.

“Who broke your heart,” Masumi asked, standing up like he would personally crawl to the ends of the earth to hunt those individuals down. “I can heal it for you if you’d let me.”

“Oh, poor Director,” Sakuya murmured. “That’s so sad…”

“I am twenty-four years old! I have an ex! That is _fine_ and _not something to be giggling about,_ Tsuzuru!”

He wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, that is just… too funny. Is it because you fed him too much curry?”

Izumi pursed her lips. “I’m not going to validate you by listing their reasons.”

“It was the curry, huh.”

She moved as though she was going to smack him. “And so what if it was!”

Everyone in the room laughed except for Masumi who said, “I would eat anything you made and never get tired of it.”

Tsuzuru squinted at the high schooler. “What’s his deal? Did you curse him or something?”

“I—No, we’re not even going to get into that right now,” Izumi said firmly. “Masumi, it’s time you head home. Matsukawa, could you walk him?”

“Can you walk me instead?” Masumi asked.

“No.”

Citron strained against the rope. “What about me?”

Izumi squinted at him. “Well, I was _thinking_ I’d just kick you out and tell you to never come back again.”

Oddly enough, Sakuya was the one to interject at this. “Director, I don’t think you should. What if something else comes after him?”

“Not our problem.”

Citron sniffed. “Must today be the first time I experience the breaking of heart?”

There was a short list of people living in this city that Izumi wanted to strangle and it just one name longer.

Sakuya didn’t relent. “But Director, you said Seers were really, really rare in Japan. And Citron said he was the best in his country. Why don’t we just let him stay with the Coven for a while?”

“The Coven isn’t a bed and breakfast for any magician, Sakuya,” she said sharply. “It’s a place meant for educating Firstborns like you. And seeing as Witches can’t do Seer magic, I don’t really see the point in letting a stranger stay under our roof.”

“Witches _can_ do Seer magic,” Citron said in the ensuing silence, like an afterthought.

Tsuzuru quirked an eyebrow. “Uh, no. They can’t. It’s one of the Laws. Seer magic and Witch magic are almost direct opposites in terms of execution.”

“Seer magic in Japan is outdated because you do not have many,” the stranger shot back. “In my country, Witches may learn some variations of Seer magic as long as they are taught by a professional.”

It was like Citron just smacked a gavel and reached a verdict. Sakuya turned to Izumi with pure pleading in his gaze.

Izumi wondered if it would be appropriate to start crying in front of everyone.

Tsuzuru put a hand on the Firstborn's shoulder. “You know, Director, it's late. We should just put this guy in one of the spare rooms and figure out where we go from there in the morning. I can help Sakuya figure out how to set up a few imprisonment Runes too, at least that way this would turn into a good lesson opportunity."

“How very excellent!” Citron sang. “A room to my own. I had been sleeping in cafés filled with strange individuals until now!”

Izumi pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Alright. Fine. Citron can stay for tonight. But only until we figure out what to do with him in the morning.”

“Hooray!” The Seer nudged his elbow and the ropes around him fell to the floor. He stood up and stretched. “Thank you for the hospitality.”

Sakuya clapped a hand over his mouth. “Did you untie yourself using magic just now? How? Can you teach me?”

Citron only laughed jovially. “No! The lady is very charming and beautiful but she is very, very bad at bondage!”

Izumi was going to _slaughter_ this one.

* * *

With Citron bordered into a spare dorm room and Masumi properly sent off, all Izumi wanted to do was go to her room, change into her pajamas, and sleep. Someone followed her down the hall.

“Can I say something?” Tsuzuru asked before she could shut the door in his face.

“I didn't curse Masumi, don’t ask me why he acts like that.”

“No, no, not about that.” Tsuzuru paused for a second. “Actually, we _should_ talk about that in the future, it’s a little concerning. Just not now. It was about the broken heart thing actually.”

“If you mention my curry _one more time—”_

“You changed pronouns real quick in the middle of our conversation,” Tsuzuru interrupted.

Izumi’s voice caught. She cleared her throat. “Ah. Yeah. That.”

He waved his hand. “No, no, I’m not asking for an explanation or anything like that. I just wanted to apologize for pushing a cisheteronormative agenda onto you, that was an error on my end and I promise it won’t happen again.”

Izumi stared at him for a moment and then snorted. She reached up to pat him on his head. “You’re one of the good ones, Tsuzuru.”

“Isn’t this just basic human decency?”

“Ohhh, you’d be surprised how low the bar’s dropped.” She backed into her bedroom and began closing the door. “Talk to you tomorrow!”

“Goodnight, Director.”


	3. Whoever Drew This Summoning Circle Is In For a Scolding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The demon was both an asshole and extremely good looking

Citron, true to his word, started teaching Sakuya Seer magic the next day.

Izumi discovered this when she woke up to the sound of crystal smashing at six in the morning.

“What happened?” she squawked, rushing half-blind towards the living room.

Sakuya was already in tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to break it! I—I can pay for a new one, just give me some time to get a part time job and I can get the money together!”

Citron hushed him, already sweeping the pieces of glass in a dustpan to throw out. “Do not worry, Sakuya, it is alright. We can get another crystal ball without losing an elbow and a knee.”

“First of all, it’s ‘arm and a leg.’ Second, who let you out of your room?” Izumi asked, trying to calm her hammering heart with a hand over her chest.

“Sakuya did. You said we could begin lessons, yes?” Citron gave her a smile that unquestionably had a history of breaking hearts no matter how ardently he protested the fact. Maybe she should have let that wraith kill him after all. Hindsight was 20/20.

“I thought we _said_ we would leave you in there until we decided what to do with you.”

He laughed loudly. “Yes! And you decided to let me teach!”

“No we… Oh, whatever, it’s too early for this.” She felt around her wrists for an elastic and tied her hair up into a bun. “Sakuya, go get some more sleep. It’s too early for you to be up and you have school in a couple hours."

“Okay, Directer…" He ducked his head in a bow to Citron once more. “I’m sorry about your crystal ball, Citron, I’ll be more careful with the next one.”

With the promise made, the boy scurried to his room with eyes still red from tears.

Citron lifted the dustpan to toss the shards into the garbage bin. 

“He’s a very, _very_ powerful Witch,” he noted quietly, only for Izumi’s ears. “I have not seen anybody shatter a crystal ball in a very long time just from gazing into it.”

Izumi put a pot of water on the stove to boil. “Well, yeah. Firstborn and all that. We’re trying to do the best we can.”

“Be careful, Director. Power like his does not go unnoticed by the shadows.”

Izumi opened her mouth, about to ask what Citron meant, when she heard the _second_ explosion of that morning come from Tsuzuru’s lab.

“I hate it here,” she said bitterly, wiping her hands dry.

She knocked on his door. “Tsuzuru? You alright?”

No answer. She poked her head inside and found the Caster collapsed on the floor, completely unconscious with the vial of anti-magic left open on the table. It was almost funny. She corked the slime back up and tucked it into a drawer, before calling over her shoulder for Citron to come help her move Tsuzuru’s body to his bedroom.

* * *

Tsuzuru re-joined the waking world when the clock hit three in the afternoon several hours later. Izumi and Citron were in the middle of lunch when the Caster finally emerged from his room, pale and shaky.

“Why were you messing around with that slime again?” Izumi scolded, getting up to put together another plate.

The rings around his eyes were dark and sunken, so she took a little pity on him and put an extra scoop of rice beside a fried egg.

“I’m trying to find a way to neutralize it but it’s a nightmare to work with. The more time I spend around it, the more drained I feel. I didn’t think it was that bad until it knocked me out though.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Ugh. Also, I have an assignment due this week that’s being a pain in the neck to find citations for.”

She smacked him on the back of his head before presenting him with a very late breakfast. “Dumbass."

“Slime?” Citron inquired.

Tsuzuru, as though he had been waiting for someone to ask for days now, whipped out a notebook from absolutely nowhere and tossed it onto the table. As he flipped through the notes he’d spent the past few days writing religiously, exposition poured out of him at rapid speed. Even Izumi lost track of the exhausted garble that came from his mouth, Citron most definitely wasn’t following.

“So… black magic?” the Seer asked when Tsuzuru finally stopped his rant to take a breath.

“Not exactly, but maybe a cousin of it. Bad news for sure.”

“Black magic is outlawed in my home country,” Citron noted before popping half a boiled egg into his mouth.

Tsuzuru snorted humorlessly. “It’s outlawed here too, you womanizer.”

“No, it is not.”

A slight pause. A turn of a page. “Uh, _yes_ … Yes it is.”

“Hmmm. Well, that does not make sense.” Citron tilted his head back and squinted, like he was trying to read minuscule writing on the ceiling. “Someone is trying to summon a demon nearby. A Witch. Not Sakuya, I do not know who this one is.”

Izumi lost her grip on a bowl she’d been washing but couldn’t bring herself to care as it shattered against the kitchen tiles. “Excuse me?”

Citron nodded once. “A few blocks over, in an… I think it is called a whorehouse?”

“Excuse me?”

Tsuzuru slammed his notebook shut and stood. “Warehouse. He means the abandoned warehouses near the port. You knew this was happening?”

Citron looked a little offended. “Yes, Tsuzuru! I am a very talented Seer, why do you doubt me?”

“And you didn’t _say anything?!”_

“I did not know I was expected to.”

Tsuzuru made a rude gesture. “Don’t tell me you saw someone summoning a demon in this city and just went, ‘oh that’s fine’!”

He pouted. “I am not very accustomed to Japanese culture.”

“Demon summoning is _NOT_ Japanese culture!”

Citron smiled. “And now I have learned this.” The smile fell. “Oh. We should—we should go do something about that.”

Izumi was already running for the door, nabbing her jacket from the entryway’s hooks. “You think?!”

Demon summoning was very, _very_ not allowed. By both law and nature. Not only were demons unpredictable and terrifyingly strong, they always demanded outrageous prices for their services. Anyone willing to pay such a price would not ask for something lighthearted.

Whoever was messing around with that kind of black magic was either stupid or evil or, worse, both.

Sakuya and Masumi were right outside of the dorm building as Izumi threw the door open. Classes at Hanasaki high must have been let out.

“Oh, hi, Director!” Sakuya said, surprised. “You seem to be in a hurry. Are you going out shopping?”

“No time to talk, Sakuya, there are fruit snacks on the counter for you!” she yelled, running past them. “Love you, stay safe!"

“Can I follow you?” Masumi called after her.

“Absolutely not!”

Citron and Tsuzuru were hot on her heels. Sakuya and Masumi watched all three of them run off. 

When they turned a corner, Masumi turned to his friend. “Can I have half of your fruit snacks?"

* * *

“That one!” Citron cried, pointing to the blue warehouse at the end of the harbor.

Tsuzuru thrust his hand open and shot a Rune forward, shattering the iron padlock and chain completely. Izumi didn’t miss a beat, sprinting ahead and kicking the door open as hard as she could.

“STOP!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

A figure swathed in black, the only one inside, turned around with eyes blown wide open.

Eye wide. Singular. An eyepatch covered the left one, Izumi realized.

The figure catapulted their body towards a stack of boxes, cartwheeling and flying through the air like an acrobat. They escaped through the second story window in the time it took most people to do a sit up.

Tsuzuru caught up to her side, panting heavily. “Where did they go?”

She shook herself out of her stupor. “They... left.”

“Left? Where?”

She pointed. “The window.”

“The _window?_ ”

Izumi glared at him. “We have bigger problems to deal with.”

The only trace of existence the Witch had left behind was that summoning circle in the center of the room. Painted messily on the concrete ground with what looked like ink and a paintbrush. It radiated black magic so strongly, it felt like someone was pushing needles underneath her fingernails. The Witch might have left but the spell had already been started.

“Tsuzuru, you deal with the Runes,” she said, rushing forward to blow out each red candle and gather them in her arms “I don’t care how, just stop the summoning.”

He knelt down and licked the pad of his thumb, immediately going to work with trying to erase them.

“All of these Runes are insanely illegal,” he muttered under his breath. “I don’t recognize any of them.”

“That’s because all of black magic was supposed to be erased, those Runes shouldn’t even exist to be replicated.”

“Well it looks like someone did a crap job at wiping these from existence,” Tsuzuru snapped, pounding his fist on the ground in frustration. “They aren’t erasing and I can’t even rewrite them because I don’t know what the hell they are!”

The black ink turned red and began glowing. 

Never a good sign.

The candles in Izumi’s hands sparked to life once more with black fire, bursting hot wax all over her. She dropped them with a shriek, trying to claw the molten goop off of her face as it started burning. Citron arrived just in time to catch and steady her as she fell over.

“We are too late,” the Seer said gravely. “Too late, the future is already set in stone.”

“I can’t get out,” she heard Tsuzuru whisper, voice rising in alarm. “Director. Director, help, I—I can’t get out of the circle, there’s a barrier in place!”

Citron gently wiped away the already solidifying clumps of wax off of Izumi’s face. He only repeated, “The future is set in stone,” once more.

The fire from the scattered candles grew unnaturally hot, turning the warehouse into an oven. She cracked open a sore eyelid to see Tsuzuru pounding his fists on an invisible wall. His face was panicked. The magic circle underneath his knees burnt brighter and gave off an even more scorching heat. There was a high pitched, wavering noise that bounced off of the metal walls and echoed back at them.

Izumi realized after a moment that the sound was coming from her open mouth. She was screaming.

“Let go!” she yelled, trying to force Citron’s arms off of her. “He needs help!"

He shook his head, staring with a hollow stare at the magic circle that held Tsuzuru.

“There’s nothing you can do, Director,” Citron said softly.

The smell of blood filled the room next as the Runes quite literally began bleeding thick red, drowning the markings and turning the circle into one large red circle. The Caster let out a horrified cry as he slipped and fell, drenching his clothes.

Something, _someone_ started rising from the dark pool.

He had horns.

Curled ones, like a ram’s, sprouted from each side of the demon’s head. Burning eyes, first red that then quelled to a hot pink; blond locks that curled slightly at the ends. He wore a red cloak the same color the summoning circle had turned, long enough to hide the rest of his body except for the pair of cloven hooves he stood on.

The edges of the cloak flared and the dark magic died. The warehouse turned uncomfortably cool in the sudden absence of the heat.

No one spoke for a moment.

The demon broke the silence by clearing his throat. “You know, the last time I was brought into the human world, there was an entire crowd of people who knelt and bowed. Now, I’m not saying you _have_ to, I suppose I'm just a little miffed there’s no ceremony.”

His pink eyes surveyed the entire room.

“Is this an abandoned warehouse?” he asked, upper lip curling. “That is just _insulting_.”

Izumi didn’t know what to say. Apparently, none of them did, including Tsuzuru who was soaking wet with the summoning circle’s blood and visibly trying not to cry. Or vomit. Or both. The demon sighed.

“Will none of you speak?” he asked. He raised his nose into the air and took a sniff. “Where is my summoner? A Witch.”

He locked eyes with Izumi and sneered.

“Couldn’t have been you, halfblood. You barely have _any_ magic.”

Later, when she was recounting the story to Matsukawa, she would say sincerely that she didn’t know what came over her.

“Yeah?” she said, shrugging Citron’s arms off of her. “I’ve got enough magic to kick your ass at least, goat boy."

The demon stared at her for a moment longer and then chuckled dryly. “At least you aren’t mute.”

He finally turned his gaze to the Caster cowering at his hooves.

The demon did not look pleased. “Last time, I was sacrificed an entire chest of gold and diamonds. Not a measly boy.”

“ _Sacrificed?_ ” Izumi cried at the same time Tsuzuru gasped and repeated, “Measly?!”

“Tsuzuru, please, priorities,” she muttered.

He pointed a trembling finger at the demon. “This thing just said I was measly! I’m like one of the tallest boys in my year at uni. I am _not_ measly. The basketball team tried to get me to sign up for tryouts even.”

Izumi ground her teeth and ignored him. She directed her next question to the demon. “What do you mean by sacrifice _?_ "

“He was in the circle upon my summoning which means _he_ is the price that will be paid for my services,” the demon said with scorn. “Or his soul, to be precise.”

Tsuzuru’s jaw dropped. “So you’re just going to take my soul even though I had _nothing_ to do with your summoning? That’s not fair!”

The demon clicked his tongue. “No, I will be taking your soul once the reason for my summoning has been accomplished. When I grant the summoner’s wish, I am allowed to glean the sacrifice; that has always been the rule.”

“So what the hell was the reason for your summoning?”

The demon’s tail, scaled like a snake’s, slithered around his hooves, betraying his frustration. “How am I supposed to know _?_ My summoner is absent.”

Tsuzuru’s face went red with rage. “You don’t _know?_ ”

“Do you see anyone around us who I could ask? No? Shocking.”

Izumi stepped in-between the two and held up her hands, trying to diffuse the situation before something ugly happened.

She shot the demon the best smile she could, the one she practiced in the mirror in case she got pulled over for speeding. “Well, Mister Demon, sir, seeing as how none of us know the reason for your… existence, why don’t you go back to hell until we find the Witch who summoned you? That’ll be easier for all of us, don’t you think?”

The demon had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Look at the ground.”

She looked at the ground. The blood from the summoning circle had drained away, leaving only the rusty stains on Tsuzuru’s clothes as evidence it’d ever been there.

“Do you see a portal of fire and blood?” The demon asked.

“No.”

He gasped sarcastically. “Oh, _a shame_. Then I guess that means _I can’t go back._ ”

Izumi felt a vein in her forehead throb. “You don’t have to be rude about it. You’re a condescending asshole, you know that?”

“I am quite literal hell spawn. ‘Condescending asshole’ is putting it mildly.”

The demon flicked his finger and stepped off of the circle. Tsuzuru immediately scurried out as well, dragging himself to his feet as he returned to Izumi's side. She gave him a comforting pat on the back.

“Do you think I _like_ being here? Surrounded by a worthless halfblood Witch and a Caster?” the demon snapped. “I’ve been summoned and sought after by hordes of followers, of kings and lords and rulers beyond your understanding. This is the worst downgrade ever.”

“I get it, your head’s far up your ass and you think you’re important,” Izumi shot right back at him, already feeling fed up with constantly being referred to as halfblood. She started doing the jazz hands as she presented Citron. “I mean, not to brag, but we also have the best Seer in… what country are you from again? What are you wearing?”

Citron’s eyes were covered with a black scarf, the one he seemed to always carry tucked into a pocket. “Ignore my accessory, Madam Director. Alas, I cannot look at the demon straight.”

“…Why’s that?”

Citron grimaced. “I do not like what I see in his mind. Dark things. Bad demon is bad.”

The demon didn’t look offended by this. “I’m a destroyer of good and hope. Go figure.”

Citron jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Perhaps you would like to do the introducing of Sakuya and his Hunter friend as well?”

“Sa—?"

Izumi shoved Citron aside just in time to catch sight of two boys ducking behind the warehouse’s door.

Ohh, she was mad before but _now?_

“Sakuya, Masumi! In front of me, right now!”

They sheepishly came out of hiding.

“You’re beautiful even if you’re mad,” Masumi offered in that oddly reverent but still monotone voice of his.

“You followed us?!” Izumi barked, a migraine starting up in the back of her head. “That was very, very irresponsible of you two! It could have been insanely dangerous!”

Sakuya, at least, looked crestfallen. “I’m… sorry. I thought this was going to be a field trip or something."

Masumi, however, did not. “I just wanted to see you.”

“We didn’t follow immediately! I ate the fruit snacks and then I wondered what you were up to so Masumi and I decided to go to the harbor and check things out but…” Sakuya swallowed. “I’m sorry. Next time I’ll stay home.”

Izumi kept a furious glare on the two of them before relenting. She brought the Witch in for a hug.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt.” She glanced at Masumi. “Either of you. Both of you are very powerful, but you’re still kids. You shouldn’t be forced into situations like this.”

“Can I have a hug?” Masumi asked, holding out his arms.

“You have a real one track mind,” Tsuzuru muttered.

Masumi frowned at him. “Ew. You’re covered in blood.”

“No, really? Thanks for letting me know, I had no idea!”

The demon snapped his fingers and Sakuya yelped as he was dragged towards him. His horned head leaned in close, inspecting the younger boy’s face. “My, my, my. Perhaps you bunch are more interesting than I gave credit for. A Firstborn? But not my summoner.”

Izumi clapped her hands onto Sakuya’s shoulders, drawing him closer to her (and, more importantly, away from the demon). “Yep, this is our little rosebud. We’re very proud of him Please don’t take his soul. Or Tsuzuru’s if you can help it, but seriously don’t take Sakuya’s, he is _very_ important.”

Tsuzuru unkindly rammed his elbow into Izumi’s ribcage. “If my self confidence were any lower than it already is, I’d probably take a lot of offense at that statement.”

“You’re a big boy, you can handle a little soul sacrifice.”

“Right. Of course. Except he called me measly.”

“Are you still caught up about that?”

Sakuya waved shyly at the demon. “Can I ask what you are? I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody who looks like you before.”

A hand shook free of the red cloak’s fabric and, after a snap of fingers, held a ball of magenta fire. “I am a demon, Witchling. We are born from the flames of hell itself and are brought to the human world to grow our fortune. Whether it be with jewels, with sin, or with the souls of the living. My breed is powerful, destructive, and dark.”

“Oh my god, you are so annoying,” Tsuzuru grumbled. “Can you start giving the shortened version of your goddamn résumé when people ask?”

“Envy is a sin, Caster, and you teem with it.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

The demon sneered. “Try it.”

Sakuya interrupted them again. “A demon? From hell? So there _is_ a hell? Is there God then? Did the christians get it right?”

The demon looked perplexed by this question. He cleared his throat. “You are a curious one. We call our dwelling hell but I’m not aware of… whether this God you speak of truly exists or not. I doubt it, though.”

Sakuya almost _wilted_. “Dang it. I thought I was going to figure out the secrets of the universe. What’s your name?"

“The summoner chooses the name in most circumstances,” he said, inspecting black fingernails. “Seeing as the summoner is not _here_ , I suppose you all will have to bear the burden of choosing my title. I am not fond of the idea of being referred to as ’that thing’ every time someone finds the need to grab my attention."

“We get to name you?” the Firstborn asked, eyes wide and sparkling in the way only Sakuya’s could.

The demon shrugged listlessly. “Granted it is not degrading and you do not begin to treat me as a pet, I see no harm in it.”

Sakuya thought for a moment. “Itaru.”

“Pardon?”

“Itaru. That’s your name. The kanji would be written as…” Sakuya carefully drew in the air with a finger that glowed pink. (Izumi figured this wasn’t the right time to gush over her pupil, but she made a note to herself to praise Sakuya later for figuring out how to Rune Write.) The single character kanji floated happily. “Like this. It means to arrive, which you did.”

“Itaru,” the demon mused, repeating it slowly. “Alright. I permit it. You may call me Itaru.”

“So we can’t name you Pain In the Ass?” Tsuzuru asked flatly. 

Itaru the demon chuckled. “Isn’t it human custom for you to ask me to dinner first at least?”

Izumi was barely able to hold the Caster back from leaping at the demon with bare hands outstretched, as though he was going to strangle the creature and force him back where he came from.

“What are we going to do with Itaru now?” Citron asked.

Sakuya bounced on the balls of his feet. “Can we bring him back to the dorms?!”

“No, we absolutely _cannot!_ ” Izumi snapped.

* * *

It was lucky Matsukawa was back at Mankai and could open the door for them, seeing as none of them had grabbed keys before leaving.

“Who is—” he asked, staring at Itaru.

Tsuzuru stormed past him. “Don’t ask.”

“No, I genuinely want to know. W-Why are you covered in blood?"

“Demon,” Izumi muttered as she followed in Tsuzuru’s footsteps.

Matsukawa tossed his hands into the air. “Sure. Can anyone offer me a _real_ explanation?”

Itaru only leered at him. “I am a demon, born from the flames of hell itself—”

“SHOVE IT!” Izumi yelled from within.

Sakuya grabbed Itaru’s hand and tugged him into the entryway. “Come in! I have so many questions I want to ask if you’re okay with answering them!”

Masumi took his shoes off and left them at the shoe rack. “Pardon the intrusion.”

“Can we order pizza tonight?” Citron asked sweetly, blindfold still on tight. He held out an arm. “I would also appreciate it if you could help me to the room of living.”

Matsukawa opened his mouth and closed it. He led Citron to the kitchen and the adjoined living room.

As he passed Izumi, who had slammed the purple pages onto the table angrily and was now rifling through the pages, he murmured, “I should let you know that before you came here, Mankai was fairly peaceful. That first month? All we did was watch TV and clean.”

“Don’t test me, Matsukawa. Not tonight,” was all she could think of to say.

“Are we really going to allow Sakuya to talk to a demon?”

“We let him talk to Citron, didn’t we?”

The Seer only laughed. “I am only a little hurt by those words."

“Do you want me to get rid of the demon for you?” Masumi asked her.

Izumi took in a deep breath through her nose. “Masumi, shouldn’t you be going home? It’s getting late.”

“I want to stay.”

“Of course you do.” Well, if the kid insisted. Might as well put him to work. “There’s laundry that needs to be folded, want to help out?”

“Okay.” He left to fetch the basket.

Tsuzuru was understandably _very_ upset as he waited for the kettle to boil. “I know that at the end of the day, it was _my_ decision to come here. But man, I really wish I had Citron’s future vision. If I’d known the whole ‘you’ll meet a demon and lose your soul’ bit, I really wouldn’t have agreed to work for you.”

“We’re _not_ going to lose your soul, Tsuzuru,” she said scornfully. “I don’t care if it kills me. We’re going to track down that Witch if it’s the last thing we do. Then we’ll figure out the purpose and make sure it’s not met. I’m not going to let you die.”

He stared at her and then bobbed his head once in a nod.

It felt good to have someone care about him and say they wouldn’t let him die. And when it came from Izumi Tachibana, he felt like he could believe it. He poured two cups of hot chocolate and set one in front of her, nursing the other for himself. The stench of blood still clung to his nose and he desperately needed a shower, but it could wait until this moment with the Director passed.

“There aren’t many active Witch families in this city,” he said offhandedly. “If that’s what you’re looking for. It’s probably a traveler.”

Izumi showed him the book. “It says there’s one here though.”

“Ignore them. They have a son but he’s, like, twelve years old, I think? They also relocated their main house to Osaka five years ago. Any others should be here for Council work.”

She grunted and slammed the Purple Pages shut. “Do you think we can have Citron keep an eye out for Witches in the city?”

“I can ask him. Dunno how well Seer magic works but maybe he’s got a trick up his sleeve.”

“It’s the only real hope we’ve got.” She dragged her hands down her face and melted onto the table’s surface. “Black magic. _Black magic._ How does any of this make sense? That disgusting slime from the house spirit, Sakuya’s powers, someone _summoning_ a demon… Feels like there’s something going on with this city.”

The Caster could only snort as he joined her at the table. “It’s certainly the most I’ve ever seen happen while I’ve been alive. It could all just be a coincidence.”

Izumi doubted it. As the goosebumps on her flesh refused to sink back down, she had to admit that there was something terrifying brewing behind the scenes and when it boiled over into her life, she would probably hate it.

Citron finally took off his blindfold to read through the pizza menu Matsukawa handed him.

He waved it in the air. “Madam Director! May you please order one of these? The sweet potato pizza looks very interesting!”

That was the cue for Tsuzuru to finish off his hot chocolate and make his way to the bathroom, it seemed. Before he left, he paused.

“You know what the worst thing about all this is,” he said wistfully. “I think I’m so mad about it because Itaru’s absurdly good looking.”

Izumi slammed her palms onto the table. “Oh my god, I _know,_ right? Like, why is he HOT? What’s the point?”

“Good looking people can burn in hell, I guess,” he muttered, waving over his shoulder.

Masumi took his place, setting down the basket of laundry and beginning to fold. “…Do you think he’s hotter than me?”

“Kid, _where are your parents_.”

“France.”

“Of course they are.” Izumi weighed the pros and cons in her head before committing to it. With a demon around, they’d need to take as many precautionary actions as possible. “Masumi, would you like to stay—?”

“Yes.”

“…You didn’t let me finish.”

“I want to stay here with you. Please let me.”

Izumi gritted her teeth. “I’ll need your parents to fax me their signature on a permission slip.”

“I can get that done by tonight,” he said without a moment’s pause.

She would regret this, she really would. But that was a problem for future Izumi to deal with. And, logically, it would be a good thing to have as many Firstborns as possible in the Coven, right? Maybe it’d even get them a sizable bonus on their checks from the Council.

“Alright, then. Welcome to Mankai Coven. I’ll start getting your lessons in order too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading chapter 3! Please leave a comment about what you think ^o^


	4. There Is Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all Matsukawa's fault, really

It was through sheer chance that the fairy tale fell from Izumi's shelf when she was rummaging for a textbook on anti-magic.

She picked it up and dusted off the green leather cover with the back of her hand. Recognizing the title, she immediately began flipping through the pages to give it a light skim. For nostalgia’s sake, if nothing else.

The story of _The Crumbled Kingdom_ was an old one that pre-dated even some of the oldest magician families.

The children’s version, the one you’d read to the little ones around a fire when dusk turned to night, went as so: A beautiful peasant girl with hair spun from gold and eyes like the summer sky was asked to come to the palace after rumors of her beauty had reached even the prince. The night before, her father crept into the room with a knife and sheared off every hair on her head. Stuck needles in her eyes to turn her blind.

It mattered not. The prince saw that she was kind and as beautiful on the inside as she was out and married the girl. And on their wedding day, when she cried from happiness, her vision came back and all her hair magically grew back in that instant.

It was a cute, empty story, but that was because the children’s version always cut off there.

The original translation went further. It’d come from either Hungary or Germany, Izumi couldn't remember which off the top of her head.

The girl was so wonderful that soon, the entire kingdom bowed before her. She was their queen, and they loved her from the bottom of their hearts. Loved her so dearly that when an enemy of the country snuck into her bedroom and killed both the king and queen, the entire kingdom followed suit and ended their own lives to cope with the heartbreak. Thus, the kingdom crumbled.

Nasty business, and to this day Izumi still had no idea what the hell meaning or moral was supposed to be expressed by that last bit. Maybe, “don’t worship a human devoutly?” Seemed like a shitty message. Still, it was a story a lot of magicians grew up with.

There was a knock at her bedroom door. She spun around, shutting the fairy tale, and called, “Come in!”

Matsukawa poked his mop-like head in, looking more somber than usual. “Do you mind if we talk in private?”

“Of course. You can close the door behind you.”

He did so, and then shifted his weight from foot to foot like he didn’t know what he was going to say next.

Izumi rolled her eyes. “Just come out with it, Matsukawa, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Promise?”

She stiffened.

“What did you do.”

“You have to promise not to get upset with me,” he said, drawing a step away and pressing his back to the door.

“What did you _do._ ”

He was grasping for straws. “The good news, at the very least, is that you can trust this mistake will not be repeated in any way.”

Izumi stepped closer. “What. Did. You. Do.”

“I don’t feel very inclined to tell you when you’re giving off such a threatening presence!”

“Five. Four.”

“Alright, alright!” Matsukawa said, holding up a hand to stop her. With the other, he reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. She recognized the fine, heavy creme paper as official Council stationery.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, taking it from him and opening the flap. “Why in the world did they need to contact us?”

Matsukawa coughed into his. There was already a sheen of nervous sweat on his forehead. “Well… they seem to have some concern over our housing and guidance of Sakuya. They said they would be sending over a representative for evaluation tomorrow.”

“Why would that be?” Izumi said, more to herself than anybody else as she pulled out the folded notice. She began to read through the dense political jargon. “We’re a Coven. It’s what we do. Everything should be fine as long as we registered.”

“Well…”

* * *

Sakuya finished making his late-night snack (a sandwich with a side of strawberry hard candies) and prepared to go to his room with it.

Citron chuckled quietly from his seat in the living room. “I would not go down that hallway if I were you."

Sakuya glanced behind him at the Seer. “Why do you say that?”

“Wait about five seconds and you will see.”

Sakuya hesitated, then stepped aside from the hallway and began counting. Right on the dot, the entire building seemed to shake at its foundation.

“ _WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN’T REGISTER US?!_ ”

Sakuya winced. He had never before, in his entire life, heard such a furious bellow. And considering his past living situations, that was saying something. He couldn’t help but pity the man who had to bear the blunt of such an explosion. In this case—Matsukawa.

“I’m sorry! I really did mean to get on it as soon as possible, there were just so many household chores to get through!”

“WE HAVE MINORS LIVING UNDER THIS ROOF, MATSUKAWA.”

“I thought it would have been fine as long as we registered sooner or later—“

“WE’RE GOING TO GET _ARRESTED_. THIS IS TECHNICALLY KIDNAPPING. LITERAL KID NAPPING. AS IN _CHILDREN_ HAVE BEEN _SLEEPING_ UNDER THIS ROOF WHEN WE _HAD NO LEGAL AUTHORITY TO BE OFFERING SUCH ACCOMMODATIONS._ ”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Director! I’m sure the Council will understand as soon as we explain the reasoning.”

“YOU HAD. A. MONTH.”

“I was… busy!”

“WITH WHAT? _PAINTING THE ROOF?_ ”

“DIRECTOR, PUT DOWN THE BOOK—”

“I’m giving you to the count of three to get a head start.”

“…Head start to?"

“ _RUN_.”

Citron had that smile still plastered and unchanged on his face as Matsukawa threw the door to Izumi’s bedroom open and sprinted out, screaming for his life. True to her word, three tense seconds passed before Izumi Tachibana was hot on his heels, thick leather bound tome hefted in hand as a weapon as obscenities poured from her mouth. Sakuya caught a few of the jumbled swears before politely tuning the rest out, knowing it would only horrify her to know she’d said such things in front of him.

“That is why,” Citron said when the prey and hunter tore into the courtyard.

Sakuya cleared his throat. “Thank you! Seer magic can be really convenient, huh?”

Citron gave an uncharacteristic snort that was reminiscent of Tsuzuru. “In this place… yes.”

“Masumi! Thank god you’re here, help me!” Matsukawa yelped.

“GET HIS ASS.”

“No, no, no, NO, NO, PUT DOWN THE KNIFE—WHY ARE YOU HELPING HER?”

“I love her."

“Is Matsukawa going to be okay?” Sakuya asked.

Citron squinted his eyes. “His fate… What is the word? Wobbly. The future is not set in stone for that one yet.”

Sakuya didn’t know if he was kidding or not.

* * *

“So why such a late night trip?” Tsuzuru asked, glancing up from his notes.

“Because if someone is coming by to evaluate this place, then we should at the very least hand in the registration forms as soon as possible,” Izumi muttered. “That means tonight."

Tsuzuru fumbled with a test-tube. “We’re not _registered?!_ ”

“That’s why I’m so upset.”

“Director, there are children—!”

“I know!” she screamed into her palms in frustration. “Listen. You're in charge of holding down the fort until Matsukawa and I are back. If we take the night train, drop these off at the Council building, and then take the earliest train back, we should be back by six in the morning or so. Can you _promise_ me that nothing will be set on fire until then?”

The Caster sighed. “Yes, you can trust me. Good lord, do I need a pay raise.”

She made sure the papers were in order before slipping them into a folder and tucking it underneath her arm. “If we’re not arrested, I’m sure we can find the funds to give you a little bonus.”

“…That does very little to reassure me.”

“Wasn’t supposed to, Tsuzuru, but allow me it because I’m upset.” She stalked to the kitchen, head held high. “Group meeting, kitchen table, now!”

A ring of fire appeared on the wooden floorboards and from it rose Itaru, regal and dramatic as always.

“You were in the _living room_!” Izumi snapped, waving wildly towards the adjoined area. “I was like ten feet away, you could have walked over here!”

“Do you think it behooves me to _walk_ like you silly mortals when I can simply go wherever I please with a simple willing?” he asked scornfully.

Sakuya giggled a little as he appeared, paper towel and windex in hand. He had been wiping down the window. “I get it. That was funny. Behooves! Because—you know. His feet! That was funny.”

“I hate that he can pull it off because he’s hot,” Tsuzuru muttered bitterly.

Izumi pointed accusingly at the demon. “Actually, can we discuss that? I feel like we should discuss that. Why are you _hot_.”

“Hellfire,” Itaru offered, and summoned a ball of flame to illustrate.

“No, I mean, why are you _good looking_. It’s annoying.”

Itaru offered her a smile. “Should I be flattered?”

“No, you should feel threatened.”

“Ah. Well, it would make sense for my kind to appear physically attractive to mortals. We do feast upon your souls and sins, after all. A little charm on the face goes a long way in sealing a contract sometimes. It’s a survival mechanism.”

“I want you to know that nobody here likes you,” Tsuzuru said flatly.

Sakuya raised his hand. “I like Itaru! He’s cool.”

Itaru ruffled the Witch’s hair. “When hell rises to wreck havoc on the mortal realm, I’ll spare you, Witchling. You can be my court jester.”

“That’s really nice! Thank you, Itaru.”

Izumi rubbed her temples, begging the headache to go away. Masumi and Citron joined them soon enough, the former popping up from nowhere almost as unexpectedly as Itaru, and the latter arriving with a small “eep!” before he tied a black scarf over his eyes.

“I’m leaving the dorms for the night and I’ll be back in the morning,” she said, running through the timetable in her head once more. “Tsuzuru’s in charge until we show up. Tomorrow, an inspector is swinging around at eight to look around. Itaru, if you don’t shove your ass into a cookie jar or something to hide in when that happens, I’ll throw you on the streets myself, understand?”

He only gave a noncommittal snort.

“Good.”

Masumi stepped closer to her. “Can I go with you?”

“No.”

“…Please? I’ll carry your things.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

She went around the circle and gave them all a firm pat on the head. Itaru snarled a little when she did so, and she made sure to give him a hair ruffle along with it.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Izumi warned. “I _will_ be taking away TV privileges if I hear you gave Tsuzuru any more gray hairs than he’s already got.”

The Caster’s hands rose to his hairline in offense. “I am _not_ gray.”

“You’re going a little gray.” She held her thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart. “Just a little.”

He moaned. “I’m eighteen, Director, I can’t afford to be gray.”

“So let’s not hope you’re bald by my age.” Izumi shot him a teasing grin and then made her way to the front door. “Oh, and Itaru?”

“Yes?”

She gave him the most withering glare she could summon. “No demon magic.”

Itaru chuckled. “We shall see.”

And with that, Izumi Tachibana left the dorms. Tsuzuru waited a minute, making sure she didn’t hop right back in to fake them out, and then rolled his eyes.

“Okay, let me make one thing super clear,” he said flatly. “As long as I don’t have to end up calling the fire department or the hospital, you’re all free to do whatever you want. I grew up with seven younger brothers and my standards are low. I’ll be in the lab if you need me.”

He disappeared in record time.

“How can someone be so terribly boring,” Itaru muttered, scowling at the Caster making a swift exit. “Such a tepid soul as sacrifice… Makes me wonder if it’s even worth it. You, Witchling.”

“Yes?” Sakuya answered cheerfully.

“Put down your servant duties and entertain me.”

“Oh, I’m not a servant,” he said, but put the Windex and rag in the cupboard where they belonged. “I just think cleaning is a good way to relieve stress. And it’s less work for Matsukawa and the Director. What would you like to do?”

“That’s your job to figure out if you wish to keep me entertained,” Itaru drawled.

“Hmm.” Sakuya patted his pockets. He took out a deck of cards from one and held it up. “We can play a card game?”

Itaru examined his cuticles. “It shall do. Everyone take a seat at the table.”

Masumi made a face before taking a step back from the circle. “I’m going to go to sleep.”

“You don’t want to play with us?” Sakuya asked sadly.

“No.”

Citron laughed and tugged the Hunter over to the kitchen table, feeling around for a chair. “But Masumi, I cannot see! You must help me conquer this game by playing on my team and telling me what cards I have.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Sakuya looked at Masumi with sad eyes. “Please?”

“...Fine.”

“Yes!” Sakuya cheered. He handed the deck to the demon. “Take it away, Itaru!”

The demon started to shuffle. “So, just to be clear, none of you have played demon poker before?”

“Nope!”

He grinned with all his sharp teeth. “Excellent.”

* * *

Two hours later, Sakuya was in tears. “No, I set the Queen of Hearts on fire! That means I launched the revolution and all of your royalty cards are useless!”

“Perhaps, but I merged my Clubs and Spades into a commonwealth and then used the Joker to turn the whole country into a republic, so my King cards still retain their power,” Itaru shot right back at him. “Just not as kings. It’s merely a title that has been removed due to governmental corruption."

Masumi reached for Citron’s card hand and removed a four of diamonds. “Then I sacrifice our bourgeoisie to the sea serpent to get a maximum power upgrade for our agriculture sector to spit on your Industrial Gods.”

Citron cheered. “The Industrial Gods of Itaru have fallen! Your land has no source of commercial income!”

Itaru clicked his tongue and wagged his finger back and forth. “Foolish mortals. You forgot about my trump card.”

He put down a pair of sevens. “Go Fish."

Masumi flipped the table over and sent the cards flying.

“Oh, Masumi!” Sakuya wailed.

“He was pissing me off,” was all Masumi muttered.

Tsuzuru poked his head in the living room, ash-streaked all around his eyes outlining where goggles had been just prior. “Uh, everything alright in here? I heard yelling.”

“We’re just playing demon poker,” Itaru said smoothly, snapping his fingers and setting the table upright once more.

“…Right.” He grabbed a banana and disappeared back into the lab.

“Another round, then?” Citron asked jovially.

Itaru licked the tips of his fangs. “I’m hungry.”

“I can go on a snack run, then,” Sakuya said immediately. “I’ve been saving money! I always wanted to have a game night with friends and just eat tons of junk food—it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“I shall go with you,” Citron said, standing up. “Adult supervision, yes? We shall return briskly, demon and Hunter! Do not fear.”

Masumi glared at Itaru. “Deal the cards again. I’m going to beat you while they’re gone.”

“Your pyre, brat."

* * *

“I like chocolate ice cream the most,” Sakuya was explaining to Citron as they checked out at the convenience store. “Director thinks that hot desserts are better than cold ones, which is why she likes brownies when they’re just out of the oven, but I think ice cream beats brownies.”

Citron didn’t respond. He seemed a little out of it.

“Are you alright?” Sakuya asked, slipping the change into his wallet.

The Seer furrowed his brow and grabbed Sakuya by his elbow. “Follow me, quickly.”

They both started running down a barely lit street.

“W-What’s going on?” Sakuya asked, struggling to keep from tripping. “Did you see something?”

“Sense, more like it,” Citron muttered. They turned the corner and he called, “You there!”

There was only one person on the street; a boy, younger than Sakuya. He turned around with a screech, pink hair fluffing up like the fur on a startled cat.

It was late. Late enough for anyone walking the streets on their own to be concerned, but much _too_ late for someone dressed in a school uniform to be roaming about. St. Flora’s school uniform, Sakuya reasoned from the lavender fabric and green tie.

“Y-Yes?” the boy managed. “Please don’t kill me! I don’t have any money on me! And my family’s not that r-rich so I wouldn’t even be good for ransom! Although we do have some money, so I would understand if you did, but please don’t! I’m just a, a wilted spinach bunch of a human!”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Sakuya reassured him. “Right, Citron? …Citron?"

Citron put a hand on—nothing. Seemingly absolutely nothing. Just put his hand in thin air. “You have bothered this boy enough, I believe. Perhaps it is time for you to move on.”

Excitement buzzed in Sakuya’s veins. “Is there a ghost there, Citron?”

The Seer smiled sadly. “Yes, there is. A lonely soul, aren’t you?”

Silence.

Citron sighed. “I know, I know. You are so young… I wish there is something I could do. But this boy does not know how to See you yet. You must leave him be. Offer help you may wish yet you are only hurting him now.”

The St. Flora’s student stared at Citron like he was witnessing the coming of Christ himself.

“Y-You can see it too?” he whispered. The small tremor in his body turned to a full-blown shake. “I… _you see it?_ ”

He chuckled. “Perhaps clearer than you can right now, young man.”

The boy’s azure eyes welled with tears. He hunched over and clasped his hands to his chest. “Oh, thank god. Thank _god_. I thought I was g-going crazy. Everyone thinks I’m crazy. My m-mom, she, she wanted to get me checked in somewhere. I thought I was hallucinating.”

Citron glanced at the empty space where there was apparently a spirit. “Leave for now and come back later. I will help this boy see and talk to you, I swear it but it will take some time.”

Sakuya couldn’t see a thing that was happening but the boy and Citron could. There was a pregnant pause before the boy threw himself at Citron, hugging him around the middle while bawling his eyes out.

“It’s finally gone,” he sobbed. “It’s _gone_. Thank you, thank you so much, thank you, thank you, _thank you._ ”

Citron patted him on his head. “It must have been scary!”

“I had no idea,” he wailed. “I had no idea what it is or what to do. I kept ignoring it, but it was always there, watching me. This—shadow. I thought I was going _crazy_. No medication worked, no amount of therapy, absolutely nothing. What was that thing?!”

“A ghost. A lonesome spirit who found refuge in being noticed by you, no matter how slightly.” Citron ruffled pink locks and sighed. “What is your name, young man?”

“M-Muku, sir. Muku Sakisaka.” Muku pulled away and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was just… This is the f-first time in months it’s finally gone away. You said it was a gh—” the word caught in his throat. “ _Ghost?_ ”

Citron waved a hand towards Sakuya to grab his attention. “Sakuya, could you write the address of Mankai? I can’t seem to remember it. Please give it to this young man.”

“Right!” He patted his pockets for a piece of paper but couldn’t find anything. He smiled at Muku. “Er, do you have a phone or something…?”

Muku handed his smartphone over, fingers shaking so badly he nearly dropped it onto the asphalt. Sakuya jotted the address down in the Notes app and gave it back.

“Come over and ask for Citron,” Citron advised and gave Muku a comforting squeeze on his shoulder. “I will help you understand.”

Muku clutched his phone with whitened knuckles and ducked his head in a low bow. “Thank you so much. How do I make it go away if it comes back?”

“He shall not. For some time, at least.”

Muku nodded fiercely. “Right. Of course. I’ll trust you on that. Thank you so much for chasing it away."

And then he ran down the street, sprinting faster than Sakuya had ever before seen someone run.

“Citron,” Sakuya asked in a near whisper. “Is he…?”

He sighed. “Yes, Sakuya. A Firstborn Seer. Who could have foreseen _that?_ Certainly not I. And it is my job!”

They turned and started on the walk back to the dorms.

“The Director’s going to ask a lot of questions when she comes back,” Sakuya said in an attempt to ease the tense feeling in the air. “I thought Japan didn’t have any Seers."

Citron finally chuckled, this time with genuine amusement. “Aha. _If_ she comes back.”

“What do you mean?”

* * *

“Matsukawa,” Izumi said slowly, staring at the sign that said Shizuoka. “Did we get on the wrong train?”

Matsukawa checked the tickets. “Oh, my. This was quite the mistake on my part.”

“Ah. I see you’re continuing your trend of filling me with rage on a daily basis.”

* * *

The doorbell rang at seven in the morning.

“Coming!” Sakuya called as he nearly tripped over himself in the rush to the entryway. He threw the door open, expecting to see the Director.

He blinked at the tall blonde man who stood there instead. He was dressed in all black and honestly looked scarier than the hell spawn Sakuya lived with.

“Uh…” Sakuya cocked his head to the side. “Hello. Who are you?”

“My name is Sakyo Furuichi,” the man said in an icy cold timbre. “I was sent on behalf of the Council to inspect the Mankai Coven and determine whether to not it is suitable to function as a school.”

“Hah?”

Sakyo sighed. “Evaluation.”

“Oh! Of course! The Director and Matsukawa aren’t in but I can show you around if you’d like,” Sakuya said, shooting him a blinding smile. “We were expecting you at eight though."

Sakyo pursed his lips. “It is standard to arrive earlier than the promised time. And you would be?”

“Sakuya Sakuma, sir! Firstborn Witch!” He held out his hand.

Sakyo hesitated and then shook it. “A pleasure.”

“Come in, come in!” he said, opening the door wider and bringing out the shoe rack. “This is the entryway, but you can probably tell already. I’ve never given anybody a house tour before, so tell me if I’m missing anything! When you walk down here, we get to the kitchen and the living room. But the Director moved the television so we couldn’t see it from the table, which is kind of a disappointment, I think."

“Who is… that?” Sakyo asked, gaze piercing through Itaru.

The demon, spread on the couch as he lazily flicked through Sakuya’s _Shounen Jump_ from that week, offered a wave. “Yo.”

“That’s our demon friend Itaru, sir!” Sakura said, and then waved back at him. “Hi, Itaru!"

“A demon,” Sakyo repeated, sounding oddly strangled.

“Yep!”

Sakyo clicked the end of his pen and began scribbling furiously on his clipboard. “I see. And did someone here summon him? You perhaps?”

“Oh, I wish!” Sakuya laughed. “I have no idea how summoning stuff works. The Director said it’s stuff we won’t be covering in our lessons. But it would be really cool to meet more demons! Director said a stray Witch summoned Itaru. But because Tsuzuru’s the sacrifice, the demon's staying with us for now. I even got to give him a name. It was _awesome_.”

“…I see. Who is this Director person? The only name of ownership I’d been provided for this building was an Isuke Matsukawa. And Tsuzuru?”

“I’m sure we’ll meet Tsuzuru soon enough, although he might be sleeping. Director is the person who runs this entire place.” Sakuya’s eyes went half lidded and his gaze turned warm. “She’s incredible, you’ll see. She makes sure everything goes the way its supposed to and she cares about magic so much. I love it here.”

“Is she registered as a teacher by the Council?”

“Probably not! Maybe. I have no clue.”

More furious scribbling. Sakuya pulled him down the corridor with the dorm rooms.

“This is where I sleep!” he said brightly. “I didn’t really have much before I came here, but the Director has been very kind with letting me borrow her books! I keep them in the corner and I read through them every night. Magic is such a fascinating thing, don’t you think?”

Sakyo didn’t seem interested, only scribbling more and more furiously with every passing minute. “A demon… I’m appalled. And this Director person lets that thing live with you? A young, impressionable Firstborn?”

“Itaru is fantastic. His stories about hell are really cool, you should ask him to tell some when you get the chance.”

The pen refused to stop. “All of this is simply out of bounds of comprehension.”

“You’re right, sir,” Sakuya said, blind to the furrow in Sakyo’s brow. “I honestly never would have thought I could have such an amazing place to call home.”

They sat in a small pocket of silence that ensued. Sakyo cleared his throat, breaking it. “You think this place is your home?”

“Of course!” Sakuya had to laugh a little. “Mankai is amazing. New, incredible things to discover every day. But it’s… it’s more than just the magic stuff.”

Sakyo’s pen stood at attention. “Oh? Go on.”

Sakuya closed his eyes and hummed to himself. “It’s the people here, I’d say? There’s a warm meal at the table every time I get hungry. Everyone laughs, and we have a lot of fun together. And the Director—she’s so great. She wakes up every day with this boatload of energy and excitement for what’s to come, and I can’t help but feel the same whenever I’m around her. There are a lot of reasons why Mankai’s really important to me.”

He didn’t want to throw such a weight onto the Director’s shoulders by admitting it in front of her, but Mankai was more than just a place where he could learn about magic. After being tossed around from home to home, relative to relative, being treated like a deadweight instead of a real person… the Coven had turned into something he’d always wanted. A place he could feel safe and wanted.

Sakyo didn’t write a thing. He only stared at Sakuya and then sighed once again, heavy and dismissive. “Ah. What kind words you speak of this place.”

“It’s my home!” Sakuya said firmly, opening his eyes and, for the first time that day, leveling a look of challenge at the councilman. “And I’ll stay here as long as I can.”

His grip on the pen tightened. “We shall see about that.”

“We will, won’t we?” Sakuya swept out of his room and knocked on the adjacent door. “Tsuzuru, are you awake? The inspector is here!”

A noisy crash came from inside, and then hurried footsteps. Tsuzuru opened the door and nearly fell into the hallway, face still smeared with all sorts of colorful liquids and hair a mess. He’d very obviously just woken up from the desk.

“…Sakyo Furuichi?” he managed, eyes wide.

“Hm. A Minagi, I take it?” Sakyo said pointedly to the flaxen and brown hair that was pointing every which way.

Tsuzuru flushed and tried to pat the bird's nest down. “I didn’t think you’d be the one to be inspecting Mankai. Are you even an official councilman?”

Sakyo bristled. “I fulfill the duties and have all the authority. I only lack the official title, boy.”

“Right.” Tsuzuru stretched and they were forced to listen to several of his joints popping. “Should have figured it was you, though. My father says you stick your nose into everything that isn’t your business.”

Sakyo snorted. “Your _father_ has had it out for me since I outlawed the usage of belladonna in potion study for this prefecture.”

“Oh _please_ , we all know you over-exaggerated the potential harms since it means less paperwork for you,” Tsuzuru snapped.

That irritating clicking noise came from the pen again. Sakyo scribbled another note. “I’m sure the Council will be very interested in hearing all of this happening under their noses from an establishment that hasn’t even registered properly. Another strike upon the Minagi name—but you lot should be well accustomed to this, I suppose.”

Sakuya had never seen a vein stand out in Tsuzuru’s head before.

Citron took this moment to peek out of his own bedroom, an apple juice box in hand. “What is all the noisy for, I wonder?”

Sakyo made a disgruntled noise. “ _Another_ person under this blasted roof? And who might you be?”

“Citron!”

“That. Answers nothing. Tsk, curse it all, I don’t care anymore. When will Matsukawa and this ‘Director’ individual show up?” The shine of his glasses looked oddly threatening. “I can say with full certainty that Mankai Coven has done very poorly on this evaluation so far. I simply cannot permit such an establishment to house an immature and overly powerful—”

Citron interrupted Sakyo's rant with a loud slurp that signified the end of his juice box. He tossed the empty carton back into his room without looking. “Three.”

“Three?”

“Two.”

Sakuya was already gone.

* * *

“Finally home,” Izumi just about sobbed as she rang the doorbell. She stood alone; Matsukawa had stopped by the pet store to fetch some bird seed for Kamekichi, telling her to go ahead and that he’d catch up.

“E-Excuse me… I was told to come here?” a voice prompted tentatively from behind.

She turned around and could only gawk at the sweet little boy with soft pink hair standing there. “Ah. Hi.”

“H-Hello.”

“ _Who_ are you?”

The door opened before she could answer.

“Director!” Sakuya yelled, throwing himself into her arms. “You’re back! I missed you!”

Izumi ruffled his hair, more by reflex at this point than anything else. “Yo, kiddo. Glad to know the house isn’t on fire. I’m sorry I’m late, the inspector isn’t here though, right?”

“No, he is.”

“He IS?”

Sakuya leaned away and pointed. “See? That’s Mister Sakyo, he’s here with a clipboard and everything."

Sakyo’s pen fell to the floor. Izumi flinched at the sound and craned her neck to look inside. “The councilman’s already here? You said you’d get here at eight!”

“Izumi Tachibana?” Sakyo whispered softly.

“…Do I know you?” She held up a hand before he could reply. “Hold on.” She turned to the boy. “I’m gonna need an answer from you first.”

He stiffened and held out his phone screen like the address would give her all the information she needed. “M-My name is Muku Sakisaka, miss! I, uh, I’m here because… because someone named Citron told me to come here?”

“Yes, I am Citron!” Citron sang as he joined the small crowd in the entryway. “Hello, Muku. I am glad to know you arrived safely.”

Izumi took in a deep breath. It was so early, she hadn’t had a wink of sleep the entire night, and now this whole mess was on her lap. “Should I even ask?”

“You most definitely should,” Citron cheered. “This is cause for celebration!”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Who’s the kid?”

Citron danced the few feet outside and then draped an arm around Muku’s shoulder, bringing him closer. He presented the boy with flourish. “This is Muku. He is a Firstborn Seer I met yesterday through the will of Fate.”

It sounded like someone had just punched Izumi in the throat. “A _huh?_ ”

“There are no Firstborn Seers in Japan,” Sakyo interrupted with a snarl.

Citron only chuckled, eyes flashing steely. “There is now.”

Muku held up a shaking hand. “C-Can I please know what’s going on?"


	5. The Witching Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuzuru downloads an app with sound effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then i said "oh i probably won't put out a chapter today" you know, like a liar

“Kiddo, why don’t you go and buy us all some coffee?” Izumi said, rummaging through her purse and handing him the first bill she could find. “Take Masumi and Muku with you, you guys can all get to know each other. Citron, can you go with them to make sure they don’t get into any trouble?” 

“Alright!” Sakuya said, ducking his head in a quick bow. “I’ll bring you the receipt and the change.” 

She cupped her hands around her mouth to call, “It’s fine, you can keep it,” as the young Witch grabbed the other two kids and started heading to the convenience store. Citron followed them, humming a song and dancing a little as he walked. 

Izumi made sure they were all gone and then turned to this Furuichi guy who was still gaping at her like she had two heads. 

“I’m sorry for being _on time_ for the inspection,” she said, a little more bite and snark to her voice than she’d planned to use but she was exhausted. She deserved some slack. “How is it going so far?” 

…Was Sakyo even breathing? 

Tsuzuru gave the councilman an unceremonious nudge to the ribcage with his elbow. 

“Ah. Yes,” Sakyo finally managed, snapping out of it. “I… You’re Izumi Tachibana, aren’t you?” 

“Do you know me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Sakyo seemed a little at a loss for words. Finally, he brought a fist to his mouth and coughed into it. “I’m an acquaintance of your father. Let us take a seat, shall we?” 

Her stomach started sinking. “Taking a seat” was always official jargon for “I’m going to start talking for four hours and you’ll listen to me whether you like it or not,” which she loathed. But some things just had to be done. Namely, the louse that hadn’t moved from the couch in the living room. 

“Move it,” she snapped, taking a pillow and lightly smacking Itaru on his head with it. 

He rolled over with a groan. “Annoying. Get your own seat.” 

“You are a monster.” 

Itaru opened one eye that flashed pink and simply grinned at her. “Literally? Yes.” 

“Get off or I’m sitting on you.” 

He stuck a tongue out and waggled it. “Maybe I’d like that.” 

Izumi locked eyes with Itaru and leaned in close until their faces were less than an inch apart. 

“Listen here, goat boy,” she said sweetly. “If you start acting like a naughty little kitty cat, I’m going to have to start treating you like a naughty little kitty cat. And nobody wants that, right?” 

“How do you plan on punishing me, vixen?” he crooned back, just as saccharine. “I could snap your spine with just a thought. You know this." 

Izumi smiled and bopped his nose with the tip of her finger. “Wait here.” She slipped away down the dorm hall. 

“What is going on?” Sakyo hissed in Tsuzuru’s ear. 

He shrugged. “You kind of just get used to not questioning her once you live here.” 

Izumi came back with a spray bottle. No one in the room had even a moment to process before she leveled it right at Itaru’s face and squeezed the handle. 

To everyone’s marvel, Itaru immediately bristled and hissed at her. 

“Quit it!” 

“Get off the couch.” 

“I’m a soldier from hell and you dare—?” 

She sprayed him again. 

Itaru got off the couch and gave her the middle finger before disappearing in a ring of fire, probably to his room so he could mope in peace. Izumi set the spray bottle on the table and took a seat, gesturing for Sakyo to sit across from her. 

“Sorry about that,” she said, not sounding very sorry at all. “We’re still going through the house training phase with that one. How’s the inspection going so far? Any questions you’d need me to answer?” 

Sakyo hesitated. He looked down at his clipboard and then flipped it around so the writing lay face down on his lap. “No. Everything seems to be in order.” 

Her eyes widened. “Huh. Seriously?” 

“Will you be registering this coven soon officially?” 

“Already dropped the papers off at the council building a few hours ago, that’s why I’m late.” 

Tsuzuru held up a hand, plopping right down next to Izumi. “Hold on. He’s lying. He was just going on and on just a few minutes ago about how this place is ‘incompetent’ and spewed so much crap about how working here would be another shame to my family.” 

Izumi glanced at Sakyo. “Is this true?” 

The councilman cleared his throat. “Some… recent discoveries have been made.” 

“Muku?” Izumi prodded. 

“Among others,” Sakyo said slowly. 

They sat, two staring at one and one staring right back. Tsuzuru broke the silence with a scandalized gasp. He slapped a hand over his mouth and stared at Sakyo with first stunned, unbelieving eyes that slowly melted into something that could only be described as undiluted glee. 

“Oh my god,” he said quietly. “You… Oh my _god_. I get it now.” He snorted, and then giggled before full out cackling. 

Izumi furrowed her brow and put a hand on his knee. “Hey, uh… you wanna go take a nap or something? You sound a little tired.” 

“This is incredible,” Tsuzuru wheezed. “This is absolutely _unbelievable_.” 

“What are you going on about?” she muttered. “You’re making us look bad.” 

Tsuzuru slipped his phone out of his pocket. “No, ignore me. Just keep talking, I need to download an app real quick.” 

Izumi turned her attention to Sakyo and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry about him, I promise he’s a lot more composed and collected most of the time.” 

“Dad’s going to fucking _flip_ when I tell him,” the Caster muttered under his breath. 

Sakyo sighed. “The Firstborn seems perfectly happy with the accommodations being provided. Once the forms are registered, his stay here, along with any others you deem fit, should be fine. There is the matter of ensuring he receives proper education so we’ll have to look through any plans you have for the coming weeks. This is all very new to all of us, as you know, but in tradition, the Firstborn will have to take a Council-officiated test soon to gauge both the level of teaching he’s received, and his latent abilities.” 

That sounded a little on the odd side to Izumi. “I’m sorry, a test?” 

“Colloquially, they have been referred to as ‘quests.’” 

If she’d been holding a wineglass, it would have shattered in her grip. “Excuse me? A _quest?_ ” 

“It’s simply tradition—“ 

“ _Tradition?_ ” Izumi snapped, standing up to look down on him. “You mean tradition like the olden days of magic when the average life expectancy was twenty-five? He is a seventeen year old boy! He needs more than just a few weeks of proper care and learning before he’s ready to gear up and go on a goddamned _quest!_ Children have DIED on those things, I’ve seen the history books!” 

The scowl settled on Sakyo’s face was finally reminiscent of his usual demeanor. “Please calm yourself. The quests are nothing like they’d been centuries ago. He will not die. Your father taught several Firstborns, some Witches, some Casters, some Hunters, when Mankai Coven had been at its prime. While admittedly, yes, most of them do arrive and begin their schooling at a younger age than Sakuya Sakuma, they always go through the same trial when they turn eighteen. It’s simply how the system functions.” 

“It’s an outdated system by decades,” Izumi spat at him. “Sakuya is the first Firstborn Witch in, what, _twenty_ years? Twenty years ago, Covens thought it was _normal_ to only accept boys in their ranks because women magicians were deemed inferior. Yet you still think clutching to tradition is the best course of action?” 

Sakyo didn’t say anything. 

“And what if he fails the quest, huh? How do you even judge success and failure on these kinds of things?” she seethed. 

“When he gives up and returns without completing the objective,” Sakyo said quietly. 

Izumi clenched her fists, trying to stop the odd shaking in them. “What happens if he fails?” 

Sakyo took off his glasses and began wiping the lens with a handkerchief tucked into a pocket. “Then we simply deem Mankai Coven to have not completed the objective it aimed for and we close the establishment. All of your enrolled students will re-do the curriculum overseen by the Council.” 

Tsuzuru looked up from his phone. “Hold on, that’s not fair. There Council’s never intervened in Firstborn education before, they don’t even have a curriculum in place.” 

“They began to set one up immediately after finding out about Sakuya Sakuma’s existence,” Sakyo replied. “It was why this inspection was needed. If Mankai didn’t prove to be passable, they would have relocated the Witch immediately. And, I suppose, the Seer as well.” 

Izumi swallowed. “What about Masumi then? What would have happened to him?” 

“Hunters have never seen much use nowadays, that much is common knowledge. He probably would just be cut off from the Council’s course and instructed to integrate with magic-less society as best as possible.” Sakyo paused to think. “Perhaps some memory alterations would have taken place as well.” 

Tsuzuru bared his teeth. “You _heartless_ asshole.” 

“Pardon?” 

“ _You’re_ a Hunter. How would you feel if you were a kid and they took magic away from you?” he said harshly. “That’s not something you get to choose for Masumi.” 

Sakyo only gave a humorless smile. “I had extenuating circumstances. Your… student does not.” 

Izumi snapped to get both of their attention. “Can we shift back to shutting down the Coven? Or even what this whole quest thing is?” 

Sakyo flipped the clipboard over and removed the last page from the pile, handing it over. “Obviously, we cannot tell you what the process would be in its entirety for fear of the risk to integrity that poses, but the test will be administered near the end of this season. Sakuya will have to complete an objective set by the Council—let me finish. An objective set with respect to his experience and abilities. Should he meet it, he will be returned to you to finish whatever lessons you have left or to simply stay in the dorms until he finds it fit to leave. Or until you evict him, whichever suits your fancy.” 

Izumi accepted the sheet of paper, eyes drawn immediately to the Mayor's signature at the very end, done in deep purple and swirly letters. _Kamikizaka Reni_. Her upper lip twisted into a grimace. The end of this season? Spring was due to wrap up in two months. Did they have enough time?

Possibly. But not enough time for her to doubt it.

“Fine,” she said with finality, folding the paper in half and tucking it away in her purse to be put inside her desk’s drawer later. “I accept these standards as long as the quest is _fair_. If it’s over the top, you can best believe that I’ll be tearing the Council building down brick by brick to strangle each and every one of you bastards who had a hand in it. Do we understand each other?” 

Sakyo gave her a small quirk of his upper lip. “I’ll see to it the Mayor gets the message, although perhaps not in those exact words.” 

Izumi cleared her throat. “And… about Itaru—“ 

“Would you prefer me to keep it under wraps?” he asked. 

She clasped her hands together. “ _Please_. We’re trying to track down the stray Witch that summoned him on our free time but we really don’t need any more complications involved. Tsuzuru’s soul’s on the line here and we just want to get over this patch as smoothly as possible.” 

Sakyo’s smile grew imperceptibly. “It’s not orthodox, but I suppose I could ignore that one note. You seem to be able to keep the thing under control decently enough. I expect to hear many a great things about what you do with Mankai Coven, Ms. Tachibana." 

“Ah, there it is,” Tsuzuru muttered and pressed the screen of his phone. 

The sound of a whip cracking burst from his speakers. 

“What are you doing?” Izumi asked him. 

Tsuzuru just gave her that shit-eating, smug grin he reserved for his most precious moments. “Furuichi gets it. Don’t you, councilman?” 

Sakyo didn’t grace him with an answer although Izumi could have sworn his ears turned a little red.

* * *

Muku nervously took the hem of Sakuya’s shirt to grab his attention. “Um… could I get something as well? I-I can pay with my own money though!” 

The Witch glanced at him in surprise. “Of course. You don’t have to ask me. And I can buy it for you!” 

“It’s fine!” he cried, holding up his hands. “I couldn’t ask that of you, we just met!” 

Sakuya laughed a little. “It’s alright. We’ll be spending a lot of time together from now on, won’t we?” 

Muku hesitated. “I suppose we will. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Muku.” 

“Sakuya.” They shook hands warmly. “So you’re a Seer, huh? That’s really cool!” 

“I don’t know what that means, I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

Sakuya’s eyes sparkled. “You can see ghosts, right? And Citron, he’s a Seer too. He can see the future and stuff! And I think the Director mentioned something about being able to read minds too?” 

Muku glanced at the Seer in question, who was currently flirting with the woman manning the register. “Really?” 

“Mhm!” Sakuya grabbed a pineapple flavored milk carton for himself, urging Muku to do the same. He tentatively chose a box with little strawberry doodles dotting the outside. “And I’m a Witch. I can do little magic stuff, like make things float. But I’m still trying to get the hang of it. I’m learning from the Director, and a little bit from Tsuzuru. He’s a college student who lives in the dorms with us.” 

“That sounds really fun,” Muku said, voice as soft as a kitten’s fur. “So… it’s Hogwarts!” 

Sakuya laughed. “Kind of? I guess? No wands or Houses or anything like that. And I still have to go to school so… maybe it’s just a tutoring program? Hey, Citron, we’re ready to check out.” 

The Seer gently took the clerk’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Muku squeaked, slapping hands over his face but staring through the gaps in his fingers in utter shock. 

“Until we meet in the next strife, madam,” he murmured huskily. 

The receptionist sighed, nearly melting where she stood. “I’ll wait until I can see you again, Citron.” 

Sakuya shot him an atypical withering look. As he emptied his little shopping basket, he said sharply, “This is exactly what got you haunted last time, you know.” 

Citron chuckled warmly and ruffled his hair. “I do not know what you mean, Sakuya! We are just of the friends.” 

Muku hid by Sakuya’s shoulder until Citron went to go bother Masumi, who stood outside the store in a brooding, quiet manner that only high school boys could accomplish. “That was so _romantic!_ Citron is really like a prince sometimes, don’t you think?” 

Sakuya thought back to the time that Citron once tried to see how many blueberries he could fit in his mouth before nearly choking to death when one went down the wrong way. “Sure.” 

Muku sighed. “I wanna be like that one day.” 

Sakuya handed over the money Izumi had leant him. Was it bad of him to let someone else’s fantasies carry out? Well, whatever. 

“I got you some gummy bears,” he said to Masumi, digging through the plastic bag to surrender the candy. 

Masumi’s face didn’t change. “Thanks.” 

They all started walking back to the dorms. 

“M-Masumi, are you a Witch too?” Muku asked. 

Masumi didn’t say anything. Sakuya poked him in the cheek. 

“He’s talking to you, be nice,” he chided. 

Masumi clicked his tongue. “I’m a Hunter.” 

“…What’s that?” 

“Don’t really know.” 

Sakuya hopped in. “Hunters are magicians that excel in combat. Hand to hand, wielding weapons—apparently, they use little bursts of magic here and there to make themselves more effective than normal people.” 

“That’s really cool!” Muku said, eyes wide. 

“Mhm! I haven’t really gotten a chance to see— _CITRON, GET BACK HERE!_ ” 

The Seer had wandered off yet again to speak charmingly with a passing woman. “Your beauty leaves the sun itself sad and jealous, miss.” 

“Oh, Citron, you,” she giggled, slapping him teasingly on his chest. “I’m an engaged woman, you really should check your behavior.” 

“I’m only speaking the truth, aren’t I?” he purred. 

Sakuya seized him by the back of his clothes and pulled him away, apologizing profusely to the woman. “You make taking you out of the house so impossible sometimes! This is why you were being haunted, this is literally why!” 

“I leave nothing broken in my steps, Sakuya,” Citron sang. “Only sighs and sweeps!” 

Muku clapped in adoration. “He's so cool!” 

Masumi rolled his eyes and popped the entire gummy bear into his mouth (he felt bad if he bit off only a part of it). “Annoying.”

* * *

Izumi and Tsuzuru bid Sakyo off at the door. “Well, that went easier than I’d thought it would.” 

“It’s because he thinks you’re hot,” Tsuzuru said flatly. 

“Excuse me?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s Sakyo Furuichi. _Famous_ for being a cold and unfeeling son of a bitch. Absolute dick to the third degree.” 

“He was kind of a dick to me.” 

Tsuzuru snorted and shut the front door. “If the weather dropped one degree for every time he was giving you googoo eyes, global warming wouldn’t be a problem anymore.” 

“You’re being silly,” she decided as they made way to the living room again. 

“No, i’m being honest. You know what he does around here?” 

“I’d assume Council business,” she mused, beginning to read over the Mayor’s letter in depth. 

“He’s not even a part of the actual Council, he’s their goddamned dog. He’s the leader of the underground police who terrorize the magicians in the city to adhere to the laws and he is, I repeat, a dick about it.” 

Izumi glanced up at him. “He did something to your family, huh.” 

Tsuzuru didn’t even bother blushing. “My dad _hates_ him. Most Bloodlines hate him. Madame Sumeragi? Almost fried his ass when he came knocking on their door about trying to restrict the amount of magical items they had on property and then paid a fine for it. When he’d been the one intruding!” 

“Bloodlines are always territorial about the amount of power they have,” Izumi mused. “I guess some of you don’t like it when he tries to do his job, huh?” 

Tsuzuru whined. “Why are you taking his side?” 

“Not taking any sides, Tsuzuru, I’m a powerless halfblood,” she cooed while batting her eyelashes. 

Itaru took this moment to intrude. He shot a glare at Izumi that would have made lesser men burst into tears. “You will never raise that atrocious item at me ever again.” 

“I will if you continue to ignore my house rules,” she said, not missing a beat. “I remember a little thing about me telling you to stuff your ass inside of a cooking jar when the inspection came around. And where were you when it came around? Inside a cookie jar? I think not.” 

He took a step closer, pink eyes glowing. “I should kill you where you stand.” 

Izumi dropped the letter and stood up, near a full foot shorter than the demon threatening her. She met him head on. “No, you won’t.” 

“Give me one good reason why,” he hissed. 

She grabbed him by the front of his cloak and dragged him to her bedroom. 

“Oh, I’ve definitely seen this scene before in movies,” Tsuzuru called after her, which she ignored. 

She let go of Itaru’s cloak and dropped to an Amazon Prime delivery box tucked away in the corner. “I was going to give this to you on your one week anniversary of coming to life, but if you’re going to be a _baby_ about it, I can give it a couple days earlier than planned.” 

She handed him his present. 

He glared at it. “What is this.” 

“A Nintendo Switch with Animal Crossing New Horizons downloaded.” She poked Itaru’s chest. “And you will not kill me because I gave this to you, so you will be grateful and listen to what I tell you to do and maybe help out with the chores every now and then because there are now seven people living under this roof and the laundry room is becoming an actual war zone.” 

He took the little handheld gaming console out of the box and looked at it. “This is not food.” 

“No, it’s better.” She turned it on. “You’re going to love this.”

* * *

By the time Sakuya was putting his keys into the lock and turning it, he figured Citron and Muku had become pretty good friends. 

“And then I saw a vision of myself falling down a pothole, so I was too scared to go home by myself and I had to call my mom to come pick me up,” the boy was sobbing as tears slid down his face. “Was I actually going to die? Did I really avoid death?” 

Citron patted him on his back comfortingly. “Sometimes we see any and all possibilities, even the minuscule ones. I will teach you how to differentiate between the likely and unlikely, young one, do not feel concerned.” 

“I never asked to be a Seer!” Muku wept. “All those creepy shadows hanging around me no matter where I went, or all those strange thoughts I’d have about the future. I wish they would all go away!” 

“You will learn,” Citron promised. “The shadows will become figures. The strange thoughts will help you be safe. All is a gift under the mask of dangoes.” 

“Danger,” Sakuya corrected him. “We’re home!” 

“Welcome back!” Izumi called from the kitchen. 

He sniffed the air and cringed. “Curry?” 

“You know it!” 

“For _breakfast?_ ” 

“Curry’s good always! It’s a little late, we can just call this an early lunch." 

Itaru was back lazing on the couch, this time holding… 

“Is that a Nintendo Switch?” Sakuya asked, putting the groceries on the table. 

Muku shrieked, staggering back and nearly falling until Masumi grabbed him and set him upright. “WHAT IS THAT?” 

“Animal Crossing,” Itaru muttered. He paused. “Oh, you mean me? I’m a demon.” 

“A d-d-d—“ 

Izumi wiped her hands on a towel and joined them. “Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless. Mostly all he does is chill out in the living room and eat our food. Nice to meet you properly, Muku. My name is Izumi, I’m the head teacher here.” 

Muku didn't stop staring at Itaru and then started crying again. 

Izumi panicked. “What’s wrong?!” 

Citron quickly covered Muku’s eyes with his hand. “Bad demon has bad thoughts we can See, Director.” 

Her mouth formed a little O. She promptly balled up the towel she’d been using for drying her hands and chucked it at Itaru. “Go to your room!” 

“I’m playing,” he grunted, snapping his fingers and disintegrating the projectile mid air. 

“NOW, ITARU.” 

“No.” 

“SPRAY BOTTLE.” 

He disappeared in that annoying ring of fire he seemed to love to use. Izumi immediately turned back to Muku, batting Citron’s hand off to wipe his cheeks. “You okay, kiddo? I’m sorry, I still have no idea what Seers go through when Itaru’s in the room with them.” 

“S-Suffering,” Muku gasped. “It’s like… It’s like the s-shadows are pouring out of him. And the fire, and the…” 

Citron gently rubbed his back. “You will get used to it. Itaru really is not that bad person. He plays demon poker well.” 

“You wanna stay and have lunch with us?” Izumi said kindly. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” 

Muku nodded. “Yes, please."

* * *

Later that night, when Muku had been returned home safely and everyone seemed to be doing their own things, Sakuya knocked on Itaru’s door. 

“Sorry for bothering you,” he said when the door opened. “Can I talk a little more tonight?” 

Itaru sighed and turned the Switch off. “Sure.” 

He had a soft spot for the Witch. There was something about the smile and unmarred hope in his eyes that Itaru couldn’t really understand, but liked nevertheless. He opened the door wider and gestured Sakuya to come in. 

“Did you get new curtains?” he asked, eyeing the pitch-black room. 

“Dislike sunlight. Asked that weird old man with the messy hair to fetch them for me.” Itaru plopped onto the bed he’d been provided. “What do you want?” 

Sakuya squirmed. “It’s about… hell.” 

“It always is, isn’t it?” he said, amused. 

“You said… you said bad people go to hell.” 

Itaru chuckled. “You join hell in one of two ways. You either sell your soul to one of us, or you commit such atrocities that your sins mark your soul as ours either way. You don’t have to worry about that, Witchling.” 

“I don’t?” 

Was he genuinely afraid of that? “Your soul’s clean. Too clean, in my opinion, but I’m a demon so you’ll have to take my words with a grain of salt. Your halfblood would say I have... what's the term? 'Low standards.'” 

Sakuya let out a shaky breath. “Thank goodness.” 

“Why did you think you’d go to hell?” Itaru asked, eyebrows drawn in confusion. 

Silence. 

“I don’t know,” Sakuya said quietly, looking like the little boy he really was as he stared at the tips of his shoes. “I guess it was always just a fear I had in the back of my mind. It’s not—It’s not that weird of a thing, though, right? Everyone’s afraid of going to hell at least a little bit at one point or another.” 

Itaru hummed. 

Mortals were such interesting things. 

“Show me your fire, Witchling,” he commanded. 

Sakuya started. “Director said I—“ 

“Now.” 

He opened his palms to bring forth a bright, shining golden ball of flame. Itaru placed his palm next to Sakuya’s to bring forth the same, only magenta and crackling. 

“Do you see the difference?” Itaru asked. 

“In color? Yes.” 

Itaru brought his hand back, extinguishing it. “You needn’t worry about hell being your final resting place until your flame turns the same as mine. Understand?” 

Sakuya stared at the gold he held and finally seemed to relax. “…Yes, Itaru.” 

“Good. Now get out of here.” 

Sakuya paused at the door and looked back with a grin. “You’re not really as evil as you’d like others to believe, huh?” 

Itaru scoffed. “Do you want me to break all your limbs to prove it?” 

“No thank you! Goodnight!"

* * *

3 AM was well known to be the Witching Hour. 

It was a well accepted theory that magic just worked _better_ during 3 in the morning for some odd reason. Spirits and demons would rise from the earth to prowl the streets and feast upon whoever dared to venture out in that time. Reality and dream would blend together. 

It was also a time that Izumi really, really, _really_ hated to be woken up. 

“Who the _fuck_ is knocking,” she snarled under her breath as she staggered to the front door. God help the soul on the other side. 

“Yes?” Izumi snapped as she threw it open. 

“TSUZUROON, HELP ME!” the young man outside it bawled. “I TURNED MY HAIR GREEN AND I DON’T KNOW HOW TO—Oh, hi! You’re not Tsuzuroon!” 

Izumi didn’t even know what to think. “Who… are you?” 

The young man threw up a peace sign. “Hiiiii! I dropped by Tsuzuruoon’s house earlier and his parents said I could find him here? He’s not answering his phone and I really need his help!” 

Izumi eyed the little lamp nearby and wondered if it would be a viable weapon. “Who. Are. You.” 

Tsuzuru came out from his lab. “Why is there so much _noise?_ Do you have any idea what time it is?” 

The young man at the door yelped. “TSUZUROON, HELP ME. I TRIED TO DYE MY HAIR WITH MAGIC BUT IT TURNED GREEN AND I DUNNO HOW TO STOP IT!” 

Tsuzuru took one look at him and immediately shot off a Rune. The stranger let out a strangled cry as he went careening to the ground, a snakelike red twine binding his body so that he couldn’t move. 

“MEAN!” he yelled, face pressed against the driveway. 

“Director, please shut the door and call the police,” Tsuzuru said seriously. 

“What? Who the hell is this guy?” Izumi asked. 

To his credit, he didn’t seem too upset at being bound and unable to move. “My name’s Kazunari! Follow me on Instablam! My bio says I’m the sexiest Caster at Veludo Arts University and its true!” 

Tsuzuru’s face held promise of death and woe. “…He's an upperclassman from my highschool.”

* * *

But 3 AM was the Witching Hour, after all. 

A time for demons and spirits to prowl the streets. 

Also an acceptable time for Banri Settsu to be coming back home after sneaking out for a quick smoke by the abandoned skate park. 

He stopped and stared at the glistening figure that stood all by itself in the middle of the street, staring up at the moon. 

That… 

“Hyodo?” he whispered. 

The thing whipped its head towards him, eyes wide. 

“Settsu?” Juza Hyodo said in disbelief. “…You can see me?” 

Banri blinked and pinched himself to make sure he was awake. It hurt. Definitely awake. He took a step back. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Aren’t—aren’t you supposed to be, like, dead?” 

Juza winced. “I am.” 

Huh? 

“Huh?” Banri said out loud. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally we can get things moving


	6. Ghosts, Hulu, and Rooftops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banri has a clinically tested genius IQ.  
> The Witch from the warehouse returns.  
> Citron sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night, I told myself, "Hey. If you finish chapter 6 by tomorrow, don't post it. Just write chapter 7, and post them both as one the next day."
> 
> I did not expect to finish chapter 7 today as well.
> 
> Please enjoy.

“…Do you want some tea or something?” Banri asked, sitting cross legged on the bed. “I gotta be quiet because I don’t wanna wake up my parents but, uh, I could probably sneak some.” 

Juza shrugged. “Nah. I don’t really feel thirsty anymore.” 

“Because you’re dead?” 

Silence. Banri winced. “Is that a sensitive topic for dead people?” 

Juza shook his head. “No. Shouldn’t be. ’S true.” 

He was seriously regretting bringing Juza home. But—not every day you met a ghost, right? He didn’t just want to _pass_ on the opportunity. “Why were you just hanging out on the street?” 

Juza shrugged. 

Irritation bubbled in his stomach. The brick wall was wordless even when fucking dead. “Go home, dude. Or, like, move on. To… heaven? Whatever it is ghosts do.” 

“I can’t,” Juza said softly. 

“Go home or move on?” 

“Both.” 

“…Why?” 

Juza just shrugged again. Banri really wanted to clobber him. 

“So you gonna haunt me?” he drawled. “Stick around?” 

“Probably not.” Juza's lips drew to a thin line. “Gotta go somewhere.” 

“ _Somewhere?_ Hyodo, you’re dead. What, you got reservation to some restaurant coming up? Is that why you’re a ghost?” Banri laughed mirthlessly. “Pretty shitty regret to have.” 

Juza’s face didn’t change, although his gaze slid towards the window. He started floating to it with a strange turning of his feet. He looked like he was walking but he moved like he was treading water. “Maybe. Dunno why I’m here. I’ll just leave.” 

“Wait!” 

The ghost paused. “What.” 

Banri blinked.What indeed? Why had he stopped him? He swallowed and curled his fingers into a fist, digging nails into his palm. “Where are you going?” 

Juza glanced at him and Banri couldn’t help but get the feeling that the guy was lost beyond words. “I don’t know. I can't remember. Can't remember a lot, actually.”

“Oh shit,” he said in response, perhaps lacking a little in eloquence than usual. Banri looked down at his calloused hands and wondered, for a moment, what feeling dead must be like. He shuddered. Not something to dwell on without getting existential. “Like… amnesia? Everything’s wiped out?” 

“I don’t remember my home address anymore,” Juza said softly. “Or what my parents look like.” 

Oof. That sounded like a boatload of issues Banri was not equipped in any way to handle emotionally. Something clicked in his brain. “But—But you remember me?”

Juza tilted his head to the side. “Guess I do.” 

Banri shoved his hands into his pockets, not knowing how to feel about that. “Cool.” 

“You were seriously the most annoying guy I’ve ever had to be around.” Juza finally gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Makes sense you’d stick to my memories." 

“Hey,” Banri snapped and then slapped a hand over his mouth. He glanced at his bedroom door and listened for any possible footsteps, only relaxing when several heartbeats passed without a sound. “Don’t be a dick about it. Just because you’ve got a fuckin’ scary-ass face and I was the only one with the balls to pound you into the dust.” 

Juza raised an eyebrow. “I always ended up beating you though.” 

“Irrelevant detail.” 

He chuckled and looked down at himself. “I mean… you won now, I guess.” 

“What d’you mean?” 

“You’re alive. I’m…” Juza waved his arms and floated a little into the air. “Not.” 

Banri didn’t like that, for some reason. He really, really hated that. He rubbed his stomach. It was twisting uncomfortably. “Like hell I won, you asshole. You can’t pussy out that easy.” 

Juza shrugged _again_. And then he seemed to mull something over in his head. “Do you know how I died?” 

A shiver ran down Banri’s spine again. “Do you fucking not?” 

“…No.” 

Banri swallowed dryly. He suddenly wished he was alone. Actually alone, not alone with a dead boy. “Car crash. Like. Six months ago or somethin’.” 

“Oh.” Juza turned his gaze to the ceiling and looked glum, but not heartbroken. “Sucks.” 

“Yeah. Sucks.”

“Did anybody else get hurt?”

“No, just you.”

Juza nodded. “That’s good, least.”

Banri hesitated. “Can anyone else see you?” 

He made a strange face. “…Sometimes. Kind of. During night time, a lil’. They jump, and I think they see me, and then they just look right through me. I think I get a little more visible when the sun’s down.” 

“I can see you clearly though.” Banri stuck a hand through Juza’s chest. “But can’t feel a thing.” 

The ghost grunted and took a step back. “Don’t do that. ’S weird.” 

“…’kay.” 

They stared at one another in silence. The clock on Banri’s bedroom wall ticked too loudly. Something itched underneath his skin. He wanted to go for another smoke. Leave. Walk around. This was fucking uncomfortable. 

“You wanna watch TV?” he asked suddenly. “I got Hulu.” 

Juza, as expected, only shrugged. “…Got nothin’ better to do.” 

“Dope.” He grabbed a remote and turned his television on. “I’m gonna keep the volume down because parents. By the way, I still fucking hate your guts. I’m not gonna get down on my knees and beg you to forgive me from beyond the grave or some shit like that.” 

“Same.”

* * *

“Man, I thought I was gonna look like the Grinch for a week!” Kazunari crowed as Tsuzuru began charming a bowl of hair gel with Runes to undo the bad dye job. “You’re really saving me again, Tsuzuruoon, I owe you one.” 

“At this point you owe me your first born child,” he snarled, dumping a glob onto his classmate’s head and beginning to massage it in with a pair of plastic gloves. “Do you know how many of your messes I’ve had to clean up? Do you remember the chemical fire in chem last week? I had to go all the way to your campus to help you out.”

“I put excitement in your life, I know, I’m quite the specimen,” was all the green boy could offer without a shred of humility.

Izumi had to laugh as she put a bowl of cookies on the table for the two Casters to snack on. “Keep it down, you two. Masumi’s essentially in a coma every night but I don’t need you waking Sakuya up.” 

Kazunari winked at her (as best as he could with Tsuzuru rocking his head back and forth with his less-than-kind rubs) and said in a fake whisper, “You never told me you were living with such a hottie, Tsu! I’m honestly a little angry at you.” 

“Do you want to stay green,” Tsuzuru said monotonously. 

“Nooooo, have mercy!” 

Izumi offered their guest a cookie from the bowl, which he accepted with an over exuberant “thankies!” “So, Kazunari was it?” 

“That’s my name, you can wear it out all you like,” he said sweetly, cramming half the biscuit into his mouth. 

Izumi glanced at Tsuzuru. “He’s a character, isn’t it?” 

“If you want to be nice about it.” 

“It’s refreshing!” she protested. 

Tsuzuru smacked Kazunari on his head. “It gets old quick.” 

“Owwww, be nice, Tsuzuroon! You’ll bruise my poor brain.” 

“Can’t bruise what’s not there,” he muttered darkly. 

Izumi thought they were sweet. It was the rough kind of friendship you could only have after spending a long time as acquaintances. Tenure friendship, she called it. “You’re a Caster, then?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” Kazunari chirped. “Best looking one around these parts. Barring Tsuzuroon and his undeniable sexiness, of course.” 

Izumi glanced at the boy in question, who looked like he hadn’t seen a bed since the fourth century. “Uh huh.” 

“Magic from my dad’s side,” Kazunari continued, finishing off the cookie and then shooting her puppy eyes until she handed over another. “He’s a traditionalist. Didn’t even _tell_ me I had magic until I turned sixteen which was, like, totally not fair if you ask me.” 

She took a seat on the couch. “But you’re good?” 

“The best in the city!” 

Tsuzuru stuck a gel-slathered finger into Kazunari’s ear. “Hey.” 

“GROSS!” Kazunari yelped, batting the finger away. “Stop it! Okay, fine, _one_ of the best. Don’t want to hurt someone’s ego. I like to think I put a more modern spin on magic compared to most of the geezers who live here though.” 

Tsuzuru jammed a finger in Kazunari’s other ear. “ _Hey_.” 

“I didn’t mean you!” Kazunari wailed, shirking away. “Stop sticking your wet fingers in my ears!” 

“Stop being an ass.” 

Kazunari was an interesting personality, Izumi had to admit. He carried himself on the tips of his toes, bouncing everywhere like he had too much energy to spare. She wondered if it was his cheery attitude that she was genuinely admiring, or whether it was because she was just getting older and found that kind of vibrancy unfathomable. Ah, the youth of college days. She missed it.

Tsuzuru caught her eye and smirked at her. 

“You got a little something,” he said snidely, gesturing to his hairline, “gray.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Eyebrows.” 

“Fifth pair, Director,” he replied. 

Kazunari looked back and forth between them like he was witnessing a ping pong match. 

“Are you guys dating?” he asked suddenly. 

Tsuzuru took his hands off of Kazunari’s head immediately. “Stay looking like chlorophyll forever.” 

“NO, I’M SORRY!” Kazunari turned back to Izumi once Tsuzuru resumed the rubbing. “So… Director. You single?” 

Izumi had to roll her eyes again. “If you’re the one asking, no.” 

“MEAN… Is that why you guys get along? Well, it’s fine if it’s coming from someone as good looking as you, Director.” 

Izumi wondered if it would be rude to just go back to her room and sleep. And then she remembered what he’d said. 

“A ‘modern’ spin on magic?” she asked. “What does that mean?” 

Tsuzuru groaned. “Don’t.” 

“Oh, you know,” Kazunari sighed, flapping his hand dismissively. “Most learn from their parents or from books and all that, right? Totally not my speed, though, I’m a free thinker and a freer spirit! My dad was complete garbage at trying to teach magic, all this hoo-hah about discipline and asceticism. The old man wanted to drop me off at a buddhist monastery for a month to learn non indulgence, can you believe that? And I was like ’no, sir, no thank you’ and booked it to my mom’s with the beginner’s manual he gave me.” 

Izumi furrowed her brow. “So you’re self taught?” 

Kazunari flushed a pretty pink and gave her a dazzling smile. “I like the sound of that! Sure, yeah, I’m self taught! Let me show you. You got some paper or something I can fold?” 

She immediately went off to the office to fetch a piece. Kazunari folded it into a crane quickly (“Stay still,” Tsuzuru muttered) and scribbled a long string of Runes using his fingertip. 

Izumi watched in fascination as he chucked it into the air and the origami bird began flapping its wings. It circled the air once, twice, let out a soft string of notes, before plopping down onto her shoulder at rest. 

“You…” She stared at the bird, and then to Kazunari. “You… gave it life?” 

“Only as much life as you give my heart with your pretty face,” he purred, shooting a finger gun her way. 

Tsuzuru pulled a lock of his hair. 

“OW!” 

“He’s lying,” he said tiredly. “It’s not life. It’s just a long Rune sequence. Zero gravity, movement, noise, and a handful of others to just mimic animation. It’s performative is what it is.” 

Izumi felt like their guest deserved _some_ credit, though. She held the bird in her hand as it went still and unmoving once more. 

“I’ve never seen a Caster do something like that,” she mused. 

Kazunari threw his hands into the air. “That’s because I’m the best!” 

“You are the _worst_ ,” Tsuzuru said scathingly. 

His friend grinned at him. “Jealous because I’m Mister Steal Your Girl?” 

Through sheer will power, Tsuzuru refrained from spitting on him. 

There was the sound of a bedroom door opening down the hall. Itaru stormed in, cloak splayed in all of its velvety glory. “What is the reason for all this noise? Have you no respect for my time of rest? I am _trying_ to unlock the shovel for terraforming my town!” 

He paused in the doorway, catching an eyeful of Kazunari sitting in Tsuzuru’s makeshift barber chair. The room went quiet. 

The demon threw his hands into the air. “You lot are so strange. I don’t even want to ask or begin wrapping my head around it.” 

“Siiiiiick cosplay, dude,” Kazunari said, raising his hand in a Rock On symbol. 

Itaru glared. “Pardon?” 

“Nah, nah, man, nah, no judgement on my end!” he said, shooting the demon a big smile. “A friend of a friend’s got a roommate who LARPs too. The guy goes everywhere wearing his wizard costume, it’s pretty cool. Not my road, but I can jive with it!” 

Tsuzuru winced. “You… are _so_ stupid.” 

Itaru turned to Izumi and gave a sharp _tsk_ with his tongue. “You said no killing anybody in the Coven. That one’s not a part of the Coven, is he?” 

“He’s not, feel free,” Tsuzuru said immediately. 

Izumi gasped. “No! He’s kidding. Tsuzuru, _apologize!_ ” 

“What?” he said sarcastically, patting Kazunari on his head. “He’s a big boy. He can ‘handle a little soul sacrifice.’” 

She shot him a middle finger. “You just _love_ turning my words around on me, don’t you? You can’t kill him, Itaru, that’s final. Don’t you have a town to work on?” 

“I hate it here so much,” the demon growled and went back to his room. 

Kazunari laughed loudly. “Man, you guys have a lot of fun!” 

The birds began singing outside. Izumi groaned. “Is it already morning?”

* * *

Juza stiffened as the sound of birds filtered into Banri’s room. 

“Ignore them, it’s because of the fucking tree outside,” the boy grumbled, trying to keep his eyes open. He glanced at his new ghost… not friend. Hyodo wasn’t a friend. The fuck was this, a Casper live action? Nah. He was more like a… ghost rival? That sounded badass, sure. 

The ghost rival who was turning translucent. 

A shot of adrenaline flooded through Banri’s system. “Hyodo.” 

“Shut up, I’m watching,” the spirit grunted. 

“Bitch, you’re turning fucking see through." 

Juza immediately looked stricken. As stricken as a ghost could look anyways. “I thought you could see—”

“Well, obviously that’s not the fucking case anymore,” Banri snapped. “Do something!” 

“Do _what?_ ” 

“You’re the dead one! You should know better than I do!” 

“I don’t!” Shit, even his voice was sounding softer. More muffled, like he was talking through a mouthful of cotton. “I should—go.” 

Juza’s details were blurring into nothing but an odd, grayish smudge. The fog drifted to the window and passed right through it. 

“W-Wait—!” Banri forced the frame up and swore when he couldn’t see a goddamned thing outside. Hyodo, if he was even still there, was completely invisible. He looked over his shoulder at his empty bedroom. 

Had last night even happened? Had he just hallucinated the past few hours? 

He rubbed the goosebumps on his biceps and clenched his jaw. No. That wasn’t an explanation he was going to accept. 

“Hyodo!” Banri yelled into the morning street. “If you hear me, be here again tonight, asswipe. Otherwise, I swear to _god_ I’ll shove your ghostly spirit or whatever back into your body so I can beat the ever loving _shit_ out of you for _literally ghosting_ me!” 

He took in a deep breath and waited. No response, as expected. 

“And don’t get lost, dipshit!” he added for good measure. 

He slammed the window shut and crashed onto his bed, burying his face into a pillow. Finally, finally he went to sleep. 

Or he would have liked to, at least. Something in the back of his mind tugged at him, nagging him to wake up. 

Ah, _fuck_. School. Banri shot out of bed. 

Wait, he didn’t care about school. 

Thank god. 

He fell back in under the covers. 

He shot out of bed again. Fuck. It was an exam day. 

Wait. No, today was Sunday. Exams were tomorrow. 

He promptly passed out and started snoring.

* * *

“Did it all come out?” Tsuzuru asked, knocking on the bathroom door with a towel in hand. 

It opened and Kazunari leaned against the doorframe like he was in a music video. He winked and shot a little finger gun. “You betcha! I’m lookin’ smoking as usual thanks to you! Want a thank you kiss, Tsuzuroon?” 

Tsuzuru cringed. “I’ll pass infinitely.” He tossed the towel at him. “Go home now, you’ve bothered us long enough.” 

Kazunari stuck his tongue out as he began drying his hair. “Mean. You’re never gonna get a girlfriend at this rate, bro!” 

This statement was met with the most contemptuous glower Tsuzuru could muster. 

“Thanks for the cookies, Director!” Kazunari called as he started collecting his things (a wallet, a necklace, all scattered like a whirlwind had passed through the living room). Apparently, a lightbulb went off as he straightened with a gleam in his eyes. “Hey, how about I give you a cutesy nickname? I do it to all my friends!” 

Izumi chuckled while fixing up breakfast. “Yeah? Any you got in mind?” 

He tapped his chin. “Izumimi?” 

“No.” 

“Izumin!” 

“No.” 

“Tachibanyan?” Kazunari said, waving a little fist-turned-paw in the air. 

Izumi looked at him hollowly. 

He lowered the fist-turned-paw. “I take it that’s a no?” 

“Smart boy.” 

He sighed dramatically and feigned a swoon onto Tsuzuru’s shoulder. “Oh, well! Director it is. It’s alright though, it works! You make everything work with your stunning smile.” 

Izumi shook her head. “This one’s going to end up getting wraith chased too, huh.” 

“Ohhhh, you betcha,” Tsuzuru said, slapping his hand on Kazunari’s back. 

“YEOWCH!” he yelped. He shrugged the hand off with a deep belly laugh and slapped his fedora back on his head. “Alright, I’m outers. See ya!” 

Izumi dropped the scallion she’d been cutting. “Wait, wait, Kazunari, I need to ask you something.” 

“Yes,” he said immediately, taking out his phone. “Eight-one-three—“ 

“Not your phone number,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I _was_ wondering if you’d be able to work on commission?” 

Kazunari blinked. “Uh… what?” 

She reached for the envelope she’d set aside while he had been in the bathroom. “It’s not much, but I’d be willing to pay you for some help. I’m going to need some Runes for buffing up one of the spare rooms. Just—the strongest you can make it. We’ve got a Witch in training and not a single room where it’s safe enough to test out bigger spells.” She wrinkled her nose. “And the city is too densely populated to find a quiet spot. I’m not going to be taking the train to the countryside once a week just so my charge can make things explode. Do you think you’d be up for it?” 

The flashy college student crossed his arms and scrunched his face up. “I… might. You’ll have to give me a few days to come up with a good enough mix. Dunno how powerful a Firstborn Witch is but I’m guessing it’s a doozy if you’re asking for my help.” 

Izumi thought back to the entirely frozen room and shuddered. 

“Let me know if you’re willing!” she urged. “You can contact Tsuzuru or just pop in whenever since you know where we are now.” 

Kazunari grinned and tapped two fingers to his temple in a small salute. “You got it, Izumimimomama.” 

She sighed quietly. 

“Still no good?” 

“Let’s stick to Director, shall we?” 

He snickered. “I’ll wear you down eventually! Okay, peace out.” 

Kazunari waved energetically like he _hadn’t_ just pulled an all-nighter and strutted for the door. 

Tsuzuru kicked the ground. “You could have asked me for help.” 

Izumi stuck her lower lip out in a mock pout. “Awwww... Tsuzuroon feeling jealous?” 

He made a retching noise. “Don’t call me that ever again.” 

“I just think we need a more ‘modern spin’ on things if its Sakuya we’re talking about,” she said. “You can pitch in as much as you want if Kazunari takes the deal.” 

Tsuzuru still sulked.

* * *

_Banri dreamed of running on a track._

_He was just jogging lightly. Hardly even breaking a sweat. Yet everybody trailed so far behind him._

_The clock in the gymnasium seemed to be going backwards._

_He was so bored._

_Banri dreamed._

_In the dream, by the corner of his eye, a flash of purple passed him._

_He picked up the pace._

_It didn’t matter. No matter how hard he ran, no matter how much his lungs ached, someone was still in front of him. Beating him by a margin but still beating him._

_In his dream, Banri gritted his teeth and kept running, trying to catch up._

* * *

Not even forty minutes passed upon Kazunari’s departure when the doorbell rang again. Izumi wanted to slam her head on the nearest surface. Not even a moment of peace, huh? She didn’t deserve even one hour of quiet to just relax and flip through a magazine? 

“Yes?” she said, opening the door to complete darkness. 

Huh? Where was the sun? 

“Hello, Director,” Muku said warmly. “This is my father. He wanted to speak to you about the Coven and my lessons.” 

Izumi didn’t really know how to process near seven foot man that towered over her. He was, without doubt, the _tallest_ meat wall of a human being she had ever seen in her entire life. He looked like the kind of guy who broke coconuts with his bare hands and chewed on rocks for breakfast. He looked like he could floss with solid bars of steel. She’d rather go toe to toe with Itaru in a boxing match than ever do something to offend this guy. 

…The pink hair and kind eyes helped him look a little less intimidating, she conceded eventually. 

She extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Izumi Tachibana. Director of Mankai.” 

Muku’s father’s eyes, identical to his son’s, went watery. He shook her hand (with a large, calloused one that looked like it could crush a pumpkin) heartily. 

“My name is Daisuke Sakisaka,” he said, voice breaking halfway. He bowed to her. Somewhat insulting, seeing as how he _still_ managed to be taller. Seriously, how tall was this guy? “Thank you so, so much for extending help to my son. I’m not sure if I understand the details, but this is the first time in months he’s been able to go around without feeling anxious.” 

Izumi’s heart melted a little. “Of course. It’s our duty as a Coven. Why don’t you come in? I’ll get us some coffee.” 

“Director, who’s at the…” Tsuzuru’s voice pattered out as he stared at the behemoth of a man that stood in their entryway. He kept staring. 

Izumi cleared her throat. “This is Mr. Sakisaka, Muku’s father. Mr. Sakisaka, this is Tsuzuru Minagi, a… well, I guess you can call him a teacher’s aide of sorts. He helps me out with my lessons here.” 

Daisuke reached out a hand for Tsuzuru to shake and smiled gently. “Nice to meet you, young man. Wonderful establishment you’ve got running here, simply swell.” 

Tsuzuru kept staring. Izumi cleared her throat louder. 

“Oh, uh… thank you,” he squeaked, shaking the pumpkin destroyer. “Director, may I speak to you for a moment? In private?” 

She gestured to the hall. “Kitchen and living room is right there, make yourselves at home.” 

The man had to _duck_ in the hallway. 

Tsuzuru seized her by her shoulders and pointed a shaking finger towards their guests. 

“How is _that,_ ” he whispered, borderline hysterical, “and _that_ related?!” 

“ _You think I know?_ ” she hissed back. “ _Just don’t piss him off! We have a demon for protection, not a goddamn SWAT team!_ ” 

Tsuzuru looked like he was going to start crying. “ _Do we have a beanstalk in the courtyard I don’t know about?! Did he climb down because you stole a fucking goose that lays golden eggs? If you did, just tell me now!_ ” 

“ _ZIP._ _JUST ACT NATURAL_ ,” she muttered harshly and then slapped on that happy, peace-loving smile to trot after the two. 

Mr. Sakisaka was sitting in the living room. The couch, which the man took up all of, looked like it was going to break under his massive frame. She could almost hear the springs crying in protest. Muku, on the other hand, was pouring three cups of coffee in the kitchen. 

Sweet angel, really.

She slid into the armchair opposite Mr. Sakisaka. “So you’re probably, and rightfully, curious about what’s going on.” 

Mr. Sakisaka gave a great, rumbling chortle. “A few questions here and there. My son mentioned something about magic and then I couldn’t follow the rest.” 

Izumi nodded and snapped her fingers. Muku squeaked as two of the cups of coffee rose from the table and began bobbing towards them. She plucked them from the air and offered one to Mr. Sakisaka. Impressively, he neither froze up or started screaming. Just accepted it, eyes wide. 

“Ah,” he remarked. Just the one syllable. 

Izumi sipped. Man, she loved doing that. (It was somewhat the peak of her abilities but he didn’t need to know that.) She placed the cup down. 

“Magic,” she said simply, giving a small jazz-hands. 

Mr. Sakisaka blew on the coffee, which she found oddly cute. The big man couldn’t handle hot drinks, it seemed. “I certainly wasn’t expecting to see something like that when I woke up this morning.” 

“Your son Muku has an incredible gift,” Izumi said. “I’m understating it, honestly. He’s the _only_ Firstborn Seer Japan has seen in several decades. I’d even wager a century or four, but I’d have to look through the records to make sure.” 

“A Firstborn Seer…?” 

She nodded. “I’m assuming neither you or your wife have magic?” 

“My wife only has the magic of being the love of my life,” he said, eyes going dreamy. “Oh, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it to this meeting, by the way. Had an early conference.”

Izumi didn’t know whether to coo or gag at the sweet tone. She settled for neither. “No worries. That means Muku is a Firstborn. He possesses the ability to use magic simply from chance instead of genetics. Covens exist to educate young magicians like him who have nowhere else to turn to. Talented musicians go to music tutors. Magicians go to Covens.” 

“What is a Seer?” Mr. Sakisaka inquired. 

“A class of magician. He can see the future, among a few other Sight related things. Spirits. The truth. Lost things. Should he hone his abilities, even thoughts. It’s a spectacular ability.” 

Mr. Sakisaka quietly pondered on this. “So the things he said he’d been seeing…” 

“Citron, our resident Seer instructor, says he saw a ghost with your son the night he met him,” Izumi said. “I’d assume it was that.” 

Muku’s father let out a shaky breath. “Mr poor son… It must have been s-so terrifying for him. And we had no idea…!" 

Tears plump enough to fill water balloons began spilling from his eyes. Izumi winced and handed him a tissue, and then the entire box. 

“If he learns in this… Coven,” Mr. Sakisaka sniffled. “He’ll learn how to control it? He won’t suffer anymore?” 

Izumi offered him a grin. “Well, we do have the best Seer in…” _Fuck,_ what country was Citron from again? Had he ever told her? “…ternationally teaching here.” Good save, Izumi. “I’m confident that we can help Muku learn how to control his Sight.” 

Mr. Sakisaka bowed to her again. “Thank you so much. How often should he come by in a week?” 

Izumi hesitated. “I’ll have to draw up a lesson plan but—“ 

“Dad,” Muku interrupted, handing the silent Tsuzuru who stood in the corner the last cup of coffee. “I want to stay here. In the dorms.” 

The two adults chatting turned to gape at him. 

“You do?” Izumi said, a little stunned. “You can just come in for the lessons, Muku, you don’t live that far away.” 

“No, I want to stay in the dorms,” he said resolutely. “I want to be here as often as possible and—and be around magic. Not just come in for lessons. I want to _be_ a part of the Coven.” 

Mr. Sakisaka was silent. Izumi got nervous and threw a quick look at him, hoping the colossus wasn’t upset. But no, he was _sobbing_ silently. Shoulders shaking. The springs on the couch went _squeak squeak squeak_ in agony with each tremor that went through him. 

“Sir, are you quite alright?” Izumi asked, wondering if they had a towel. Kleenex wasn’t going to cut it, it looked like. 

He sniffled again and wiped at his face. “Yes, quite. They just grow up so fast, don’t they? He’s never asked for something with all his heart before. You know, Muku’s not really one to _ask_ for things, so this is just a very big moment for both of us.” 

“Daaaaaad, you’re embarrassing me,” Muku whined. 

Mr. Sakisaka nodded. “Alright, Muku. You can stay. Ms. Tachibana, are there any forms I have to sign?” 

“Just a handful, I can go to my office and fetch them right now,” she said, standing. “I’ll send you off with them so you can read it in its entirety. Just bring it back signed with Muku’s things and it’ll be fine.” 

He leaned forward and took her hands in his. “I truly cannot express how grateful I am, for this deed you’re doing for my family. Thank you. If there’s anything you need from us, just let us know. The Sakisaka family is forever in your debt.” 

Her face flushed red. “N-No! No, no, it’s fine, it’s the reason the Coven exists at all. Come with me to my office and I’ll get you the documents.” 

They started down the hall. Sakuya’s bedroom door opened and he stumbled out, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Director…? Why is it so noisy.” 

He walked directly into Mr. Sakisaka’s chest and nearly fell over. The man caught him. 

“Careful there, lad.” 

Sakuya squinted, still half-asleep. “…God?” 

Luckily, Mr. Sakisaka found this rather funny and laughed good-naturedly. Izumi shooed Sakuya back to his room, telling him to get another half hour of rest, and quickly grabbed the release forms. She handed them over and soon, father and son were leaving Mankai. 

“I’ll see you soon, Director!” Muku said, smile as bright as the spring sky above them as he waved. 

Izumi and Tsuzuru both waved goodbye in return. They watched them walk off. 

“So. Breakfast?” Izumi said finally. 

Tsuzuru nodded, still silent. 

They sat at the table and began picking away at the meal. 

Tsuzuru put down his toast before biting into it and looked up at her. 

“We should probably be really, really, really nice to Muku,” he said. “You know. In case he gets a growth spurt.” 

She held up her coffee cup. “Cheers to that.”

* * *

“You have quite a lot of boxes, huh,” Matsukawa gasped as he hauled another into Muku’s dorm room. “Bricks?” 

“Books!” he cheered, kneeling at the bottom of his shelf to begin organizing. 

“Bibles?” Sakuya asked. 

Muku froze and looked puzzled. “P-Pardon?” 

“Oh! Oh, sorry, that probably sounds really weird without context! It’s just that Tsuzuru had a hundred and seventy bibles when he moved in.” 

Muku turned his wide-eyed gaze to the Caster. “Oh! I had no idea you were so devout.” 

“I’m not,” Tsuzuru said immediately. “But to clarify, you _don’t_ have any bibles on hand?” 

“N-No, am I supposed to?” 

“Would you like to buy one?” 

Izumi swatted Tsuzuru on the back of his head with a rolled up newspaper. “Less selling, more box moving.” 

Muku opened one of the cardboard packages and showcased a meticulously packed collection of shoujo manga. “I love shoujo manga! They’re really fun to read and pass the time with.” 

Tsuzuru leaned in close. “You got a shoujo manga about, uhhhhhh, a man and a woman in a garden where they hang out with all sorts of animals?” 

The Seer in training immediately began rifling through the little booklets. “I might? Do you know the name of it?” 

“Yeah, the Holy Bible, which could be yours for the cheap price of—“ 

“TSUZURU!” Izumi yelled.

* * *

And thus began Muku’s first official Seer lesson. 

Sipping tea. 

“I usually like to be starting with the crystal ball,” Citron explained, one-shotting his own cup, “but unfortunately my last one is broken! So tea leaves will do for now.” 

“I-It’s alright, I like tea!” Muku stammered, trying to drink as quickly as he could without scalding himself. “As long as it’s decaffeinated. I get all jittery and weird otherwise.” 

Citron put both of their empty cups on the table and positioned them so that both handles faced to the right. “This is a little old a method but still good training. What do you see, Muku?” 

He looked into the bottom of the cup and immediately began wringing his hands. What did he see? A blob of dark brown, that was what. Was he supposed to see something? Like shapes? The way one saw things in clouds? Would he get kicked out of the Coven if he messed up? Would he have to deal with seeing shadows forever without any help?

“I, uh, I-I see… I see a f-flower?” he squeaked. 

Citron looked amused. “I see tea leaves.” 

Muku wilted. “I’m sorry.” 

“Do not be! This is where Seer magic comes in.” He gestured for Muku to hold the cup in his hands. “Close your eyes and try to imagine how the tea leaves looked.” 

Muku screwed his eyes shut and tried to picture the blob perfectly. The edges of the tea residue wavered, before forming into something else. He harrumphed and drew his eyebrows together in concentration, trying to force the rough image back to being a blob. 

“No, no,” Citron chided. “Do not fight it.” 

“I have an active imagination,” Muku mumbled. 

Citron felt oddly nostalgic. He’d been told the same as a child, hadn’t he? “Muku, I am sure you have an active imagination. But you also have Seer magic. Let your thoughts roam.” 

And so Muku let the tea blob in his head do what it wanted to. 

It shaped itself into… a bed. Someone lying in it. Muku was… sitting by the bed. The someone was… sick? 

He opened his eyes. “Someone was sick. I was comforting them.” 

Citron glowed. “A future. Albeit, one with higher likelihood than most. The definite future? Unlikely, tea leaves are not that good. My own cup…” Citron shut his eyes and hummed, tapping the porcelain handle. “Aha! Well, how odd! I am asleep in bed. Perhaps I will being come down with a cold?” 

Muku paled and nearly dropped the teacup. “C-Citron, sir! We have to stop it then! What if it’s influenza, or pneumonia, what if you DIE!” 

Citron didn’t seem even a bit phased. “Do not twist your heart. I will be okay. It will not be fatal, although perhaps it will take some time.” He glanced at the ceiling and narrowed his eyes. “Some time indeed.” 

Muku wondered if there was a prophecy on the ceiling. Nope. Just lightbulbs. “Citron, what are you looking at?” 

He got to his feet. “Nothing very. Muku, you should go and tell the Director what you’ve seen. She should be prepared, after all. In case!” 

“R-Right!” he said, hurrying out of the room with teacup clutched like it was his final life line. 

Citron quietly closed the door and locked it. He took in a deep breath and glanced at the ceiling again. This could either go very well or very badly. But he was never one to dwell on possibilities. Fate had a way of twisting no matter how hard you tried to wrangle it down. 

He opened the window and sat on the sill, leaning back to try to see the roof. 

“Hello!” he called jovially. “What are you doing up there?” 

Silence. 

“I know you are there,” Citron added. 

A shifting noise. 

“You do not have to leave. I just wish to chat.” 

Quiet again. And then, ever so softly… 

“I like it here.” 

“Perhaps I would like it there as well then,” Citron replied. “May I join you?” 

“…Okay.” 

He smiled. “I might be needing some help.” 

Invisible hands grabbed him under his arms and lifted him through the air until he was comfortably seated on the rooftop of Mankai’s dorms. There was, as expected, someone else there. Sitting with his knees drawn to his chin and face buried in them, hood drawn as well. As though he was trying to make himself as small and as unnoticeable as possible. 

“Thank you very much,” Citron said, spreading out. He gazed at the city. “The view here is very nice. I did not know it!” 

The boy didn’t speak. 

Citron closed his eyes. “You have been coming here quite often, have you not? Many nights. You just sit there.” 

He stiffened and then crunched up even smaller. “I’m sorry. I thought nobody would notice.” 

“Do not be sorry, I just have very good eyes. Mankai has open doors, young one. You should come inside next time.” Citron cracked one eye open to peek at him. 

The boy shook his head firmly. 

“Hmm. Then you may stay on the roof. You may do what you like.”

They sat together and watched the sun start to set. The air smelled sweet, as it always did in spring. A breeze that promised flowers and rain. Citron lay down and wondered if it was wise to take a nap so high up. 

“I… like the magic,” the boy whispered finally. “There’s a lot of magic coming from this place. So I sit on the roof sometimes. And the people inside are really loud.” 

Citron hummed. “Yes, they are very… what is the word? Energetic.” 

He saw the barest hint of a smile appear on the boy’s face. “I like listening to it. It feels warm. And happy. Sometimes you guys yell things that make me laugh..” 

Silence. The boy inhaled, speaking again. 

This time it was a question. “Are you guys a family?” 

“None of us are related,” Citron said. “But I would like us to all be family one day. Perhaps we are not there yet, but the future has no limits.” 

The boy raised his head finally and cocked his head to the side. Citron was reminded of a turtle poking out of its shell. “What do you mean?” 

“A family. Support and care for each other.” 

“But… you aren’t related.” 

Citron winked. “Blood is not so thick. Maple syrup is much thicker. And tastier!” 

The boy touched his fingertips to his eyepatch and bit his lower lip in thought. 

“You are the Witch we met last week, hm?” Citron asked. “You were summoning Itaru. The demon. With black magic. Impressive for someone your age.” 

The boy started, like the very question was enough to make him scamper away. Citron held up a soothing hand, waving at him to lower his hackles. 

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispered. “I-I didn’t mean for anyone to get involved. I’m _sorry_. It was just supposed to be... me.” 

The Seer laughed. “It is the Tsuzuru’s fault! He is kind but _very_ nosey! And Itaru is very good at playing card games.” 

“Are they mad at me?” the Witch asked fearfully. “The people who live here.”

“They simply wish to understand, young man. Which is why I think you would like it inside more than out here.” Citron held out his hand. “What do you say? It would be interesting to have another Witch in the house.” 

He fiddled with the eyepatch again. “W-Would the others let me?” 

In truth, that bit of the future was unclear. There was one future where Tsuzuru was so shocked at the Witch’s appearance, he dropped an entire bowl of chocolate sauce on himself. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on Citron’s part. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish between improbable futures and his own daydreams. 

“The Director will probably demand to cut your hair before you can move in, but her arms will be open,” he said finally. 

And it was true. There was simply no way Izumi would let that long, grimy blue hair stay the way it was. Tied back haphazardly with a ribbon that had seen much better days. Perhaps she would gasp in horror at how skinny the young man was, and go full mother hen. Forcing him to take seconds of curry and spoiling the newcomer for a solid week. Pampering him until he was plump and cozy. 

Citron reached his hand out further. “A Witch needs a Coven, doesn’t he? It’s not fun being alone.” 

The boy sat there frozen before, imperceptibly, his arm rose from his side. A pale hand with long fingers inched towards Citron’s. 

Then someone hammered on his bedroom door. 

“CITRON, CAN YOU PLEASE TELL ME WHY MUKU IS CRYING ON THE FLOOR ABOUT YOU HAVING SCARLET FEVER?” Izumi bellowed. 

The Witch leapt to his feet and turned to disappear in a flash like last time. 

“Wait!” Citron cried, grabbing him by the back of his hoodie. “Do not run!” 

“Let go of me!” the boy yelled, struggling. “Please!” 

His sole eye was wide, pupil turned to pinpoint. Like he was a cornered animal. 

Citron tried to pull him in. “It is okay, I swear it!” 

“Let go,” the Witch yelled, “Let go, let go! LET GO OF ME!” 

He shoved his palm into Citron’s face as he cried and the Seer caught one dark blue spark before the world began spinning. 

Citron giggled to himself as his entire body went numb. The last thing he sensed was careening off the roof and plummeting to the ground. The Witch was already meters away, jumping from tree branch to tree branch like he was flying. 

That most definitely could have gone better, he thought to himself. 

The world went black. He heard the Director shriek, and then something… someone? Catch him, breaking his fall. 

That was all. Then Citron lost every sense and began, instead, to slumber.

* * *

Banri checked outside his window every hour, starting from midnight. It was only at three, on the dot, when he spotted a soft, silver light on the street.

“Took you long enough,” he called. “You got lost on your way?” 

Juza gave him the middle finger. “I’ve been here for a while. You just couldn’t see me. Your eyesight must be shit.” 

“Okay, Flying Dutchman, eat my ass.” 

He stuck a leg out the window, feeling for that one brick that stuck out. Got a firm lodging on it, and then leapt for the tree right outside. The branch bent just enough for him to drop the rest of the way to the ground comfortably. 

“You ready?” Banri asked, dusting himself off. 

“…For?” 

“You fucking stupid? We’re not watching Hulu again, I don’t care how bored you are.” He jerked his head down the road. “Graveyard. Let’s go.” 

If looks could kill, there would have been two ghosts standing there. Juza shoved his hands into his pockets. “Fuck you.” 

“No, I’m serious. I wanna try something out.” Banri began walking, hands laced behind his head. “I read a few articles online. Dunno how trustworthy they are, but one of ‘em said that I can touch a ghost if we’re in a graveyard. Something about it being the territory of the deceased.” 

After a moment, Juza trotted after him. “Why do you want to?” 

Why indeed? 

Banri let a comfortable sneer spread on his face. “I spent a long time thinking about why I can see you. And why you’re even a ghost and shit. The second bit, no idea, but the first? _Definitely_ know why.” 

“…Why?” Juza repeated. 

Banri stopped and spun on his heel to face him.

He drew a fist back and punched Juza as hard as he could. The ghost raised an arm to block, but both actions were ultimately meaningless. Banri’s fist passed clear through Juza’s body.

He dropped the fist. “Because I fucking hate your guts, Hyodo. And your soul ain’t going to rest until I get to punch you so hard, you sink six feet under again. Can’t punch you if I can’t touch you.” 

Juza stared at him with an odd look. “You… are fucking stupid.” 

“Factually incorrect, I’ve got a clinically tested genius level IQ,” he replied coolly. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense to me, anyways. Kicking your ass is my destiny and I’m not going to rest until I figure out a way to punch a ghost. You in or not?” 

Juza glanced at the moon and the way it shone brightly. He flexed his fingers and formed a fist. 

…Admittedly, it would be really nice to punch Settsu again. Especially since he couldn’t remember most of their fights with clarity. But it sounded fun. 

“Fine,” he sighed. “Got nothin’ else to do." 

“Baller, graveyard it is then.”

* * *

Citron was not waking up. 

It couldn’t have been the fall, Izumi knew. Masumi had caught him in the knick of time, sprinting across the entire courtyard to throw himself the final stretch and snatch Citron before he became a cement decoration. 

It was the spell. A malevolent energy that was keeping his eyes sealed.

She didn’t know who cast it, what it was, or how to undo it. After a chaotic night of attempting every remedy she knew off the top of her head, each a failure, Tsuzuru finally urged her to sleep as well. 

“Maybe it’ll wear off by the morning,” he’d said while not believing himself. 

It hadn’t. 

And it continued to not wear off the next day as well.

By the third, Izumi could say that she was thoroughly distraught. The worry sat in her stomach like sludge, threatening to spill out of her like vomit every passing minute. How could this have _happened?_ How could she have _let_ it happen?

“Director?” Sakuya murmured, shaking her gently. 

She snapped herself out of her melancholic daze. “Yeah, kiddo?” 

He held out a bowl of congee. “I… I thought Citron could eat. It’s been a while. Should I take it to him?” 

The only good luck they’d had was that, despite deep in sleep, Citron was capable of eating and drinking. As long as small puddles of food or water were placed in his mouth, he seemed to swallow. Honestly, the man looked healthy and fine. No one could have guessed he’d been unconscious for three days. 

Izumi shook her head and took the meal from his hands. “I got it, Sakuya. You just… practice some more spells.” 

He hesitated. 

“You’re still young,” she said softly and ruffled his hair. “I know you’re capable of a lot. And that you could feed Citron on your own. But there are just some things a kid shouldn’t have to do. Trust me on this one?” 

Sakuya slowly nodded. “Okay.” 

She walked to Citron’s room and was unsurprised to see Muku sitting there. He’d been nearly inseparable from his mentor’s bedside ever since Citron went lights out. 

However, she _was_ surprised to find him giggling. 

“Oh, Director!” he said joyously as she came in. He patted Citron’s hand. “She’s here, Mister Citron! Aren’t you pleased?’ 

Izumi didn’t know what to say to that. “You… uh, okay, Muku?” 

“…I was pretty upset the first few days,” he confessed. “But I’m much better now that I can finally hear him!”

It felt like Izumi’s brain short-circuited. 

“You can hear him,” she repeated.

“It took a lot of trying,” the young Seer chattered. “I think I can only do it because Mister Citron’s another Seer. And a better one than me. When I look at you, it’s all just weird colors and static. Mister Citron is really good at channeling thoughts, it’s kind of scary.” 

She sat down beside him and tried to run that through her head again. “Seer magic is certainly versatile.” 

“He said he’s proud of me for managing it.” At least Muku was smiling again. She’d thought the boy would be a withered shell by this point from how hard he’d been crying. “And…” Muku blinked profusely like he was _hearing_ something. “He says—he says his end isn’t set in stone. So he’ll be completely fine, and you can stop worrying about him.” 

Izumi’s breath caught in her throat. She grasped the bowl harder, willing her hands to stop quivering. “Did he now?” 

“Yep!” 

Izumi glanced at Citron’s beautiful, resting face. Not even a twitch. 

“Muku,” she said tentatively, trying to test it to see if it was true. “Can you ask him why he breaks so many hearts?” 

“He can hear you just fine, Director,” he reassured her. Paused. Then said, “Mister Citron says he doesn’t break hearts. And says you’re very mean for bringing this up when he can’t even defend himself properly.” 

She covered her eyes with a hand and let out a half-laugh, half-whimper. “He certainly broke mine.” She smacked his arm. “ _Asshole_. I was so worried about you.” 

Muku tugged her sleeve. “He says he’ll wake up tonight.” 

Further relief. Thank god she was sitting, Izumi might have keeled over by accident. She was _actually_ going to start crying. “Good. About time. He’s slept enough for everybody under this roof.” 

“He says he’s going to come lift the spell,” Muku continued, still blinking owlishly. “Uh… uh… And that you shouldn’t get mad at him when he does, because it was a mistake. And to be gentle.” 

Ice. Cold ice gripped her lungs. “Who, Muku?” 

“The…” Muku paused and looked at Citron with confusion, like he hadn’t heard that right. “The One-Eyed Witch?” 

The bowl of congee clattered to the floor. 

Muku echoed "‘Noooooooo, my dinner!’” and had it been any other situation, Izumi might have laughed at how spot on his impression was.

* * *

And then she found herself shaking Tsuzuru like he was an aerosol bottle. “THAT’S WHY YOU HAVE TO GO NOW.” 

“CAN YOU PLEASE EXPLAIN IT TO ME WITHOUT THE PHYSICAL ASSAULT!” he roared back. 

Izumi released him. “Citron said the Witch is coming here—“ 

“He’s awake now?” 

“No, Muku read his mind—“ 

“Muku can _read minds?_ ” 

“No!” She felt like she would tear her hair out. “Can you please just shut up and listen! Now is not the time for in depth exposition, I’m doing the best I can! Citron said, through Muku, who can read his mind but _only_ his mind and nobody else’s right now, that the Witch from the warehouse is coming to the Coven _tonight_ to lift the spell on him. Oh, yeah, news flash, Citron was put in a coma by the One Eyed Witch, which I guess is what we’re calling him now." 

Tsuzuru held up a finger. “Did Citron come up with that name?” 

“Yes.” 

“Figures. It’s dramatic but works.” Tsuzuru took all this in stride but was still coming up blank. "Okay, and? I leave why?” 

She pointed down the hall where Itaru’s room was, lowering her voice. “In case you don’t remember, _that thing_ is contracted to the warehouse Witch.” 

“One Eyed Witch sounds cooler.” 

She smacked his arm. “Can you please be serious?! He’s been complacent for now because I’ve been giving him video games to keep busy with, _but what do you think he’ll do if he gets an order to kill us!_ ” 

Tsuzuru went white. “Oh.” 

“He follows you around because you’re his sacrifice, so tell him you’re going home to your parents for the next two nights!” she pleaded. “You know he’s going to go with you.”

Tsuzuru took a step back. “Nope.” 

“EXCUSE ME?” 

“Do you have _any_ idea what my parents are going to do to me if they find out I got sacrificed to a demon?” the Caster cried. “My mother gave me three requirements when I left home for university. One: don’t get a girl pregnant out of wedlock. Two: make sure to eat a vegetable every now and then. Three: don’t get involved with anything that has to do with soul sacrifice. Which I understand is oddly specific to our current situation, but was _honestly_ one of the ONLY three requirements she gave me! She will skin me alive if she finds out I’m demon food!” 

“WOULD YOU RATHER BE _ACTUALLY_ SKINNED ALIVE BY A WITCH WHO USES BLACK MAGIC?” Izumi yelled. 

“ _HAVE YOU EVER SEEN MY MOTHER WHEN SHE GETS ANGRY? I’D PREFER THE BLACK MAGIC!_ ” 

Izumi slapped both her hands over her face and took in a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Suddenly she had an _incredible_ idea. 

“Okay,” Izumi said as the thought knit together to something more coherent. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I got it. Can you promise me, _on your honor as a Minagi Caster_ , that if I can find you comfortable accommodations for the night that is not your family’s house, you will go there with Itaru and stay away from the Coven until morning?” 

“Yes,” he said immediately. 

“Swear on it.” 

He held up his palm. “I swear on my honor as a Minagi Caster." 

Izumi took out her phone. “Perfect.” 

She selected the contact and brought the phone to her ear. 

…. _Click._

“ _Hello?_ ” 

“Hi!” she said with false joy. “I’m so sorry to be asking for a favor so early, Mr. Sakisaka, but would you happen to have a room available tonight for two members of the Coven to stay in?” 

Tsuzuru blanched.

* * *

With Matsukawa taking Tsuzuru and Itaru to the Sakisaka household, the Mankai dorms were oddly quiet. Only four people under the roof… When had that been the case last? When Tsuzuru had joined them. It seemed such a long time ago, but it’s only been a few weeks, hadn’t it? 

Technically five people, Izumi reminded herself. Citron, after all. Well, four waking members. 

She handed a plate of curry to Muku. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to predict when people are about to ring the doorbell, right?” 

Muku looked confused. 

Izumi sighed. “Sorry, ignore me. I guess it’s just a quirk of Citron’s I got too used to.” 

“The curry’s delicious tonight too,” Masumi said, shoveling in another mouthful. 

She ruffled his hair. “Thanks. There’s plenty so eat up.” 

He started inhaling his food and Izumi immediately realized what she had done wrong. 

“Don’t choke on it!” she scolded, wrenching his face away from his plate. “Jeez. You’re so hard to keep an eye on.” 

Then the doorbell rang and someone might as well have just kicked her right in the spinal cord. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” she whispered, wiping sweaty palms on her pants. 

It would be fine, right? Citron said the Witch was just coming to lift the spell on him. And warned her to be gentle. 

But what if that was just code so that he didn’t scare Muku? After all, this one _did_ summon a demon. 

“I’ll get it,” Sakuya offered, getting up. 

She forced him back down. “Nope. This one’s mine, Sakuya. Stay here and eat your dinner. _Don’t move_. Do you understand?” 

His eyes turned starry like they always did when he was curious. 

“Absolutely not,” Izumi said to the unasked request. 

She went to open the door, preparing herself for the worst. 

Only to see Kazunari standing there. He looked more tired than he had last time, but perky as ever. 

“Yo, Director!” he said, brandishing a sleek black folder. “I got your plans for the practice room finished up. Man, it took me like nonstop work to get the logistics in order but I _think_ I’ve got a mix of Runes good enough to withstand an airstrike. That good enough for your Witch student?" 

No. There was no way. 

“Kazunari, _you’re_ the One Eyed Witch?” she blurted. 

“The One Who Whatsit?” He scratched the back of his head. “Oooh, you speaking in riddles now, Director? That’s cool. I’m not good at them though, so standard language would be nice. Or you can do whatever floats your boat, I guess! Free country, free speech, hell yeah, constitutional rights.” 

Izumi wished she could ask him to shut up in the nicest way possible. Her head hurt so badly. _Man_ , she had no idea how much she had relied on Citron’s counsel before. Having someone who could see almost every route in the future had turned her soft, hadn’t it? 

“Kazunari, I don’t think this is a good time,” Izumi admitted. “I’m waiting for someone to turn up. Citron got a little… sick? And we’re waiting for the, uh, ‘doctor' to show up.” 

Someone’s head popped down from absolutely nowhere. “Oh, me?" 

Izumi Tachibana let out the most hysterical, blood curdling scream she had ever emitted in her entire life, before promptly falling on her ass. 

Kazunari seemed baffled by her reaction. “I was gonna ask why someone was chilling out on your roof but I figured you knew about it. You don’t know this guy? He’s been sitting there for a while now.” 

The One Eyed Witch dropped off the eave of the house, landing on his feet nimbly. “…Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you. I just thought you were talking about me so…” He squirmed. “I thought that was a good time to make my entrance.” 

“Director!” Sakuya yelled as the three boys inside raced towards her. “Are you okay? You yelled.” 

Masumi knelt down and gripped her by her forearms, helping her up. With a completely straight face, he asked, “Are they bothering you? Do you want me to chase them away?” 

“If this is a bad time, I can come back later,” the One Eyed Witch offered quietly. “I’m sorry for intruding." 

“Waaaaaaaait a second. I know that voice.” Kazunari took a step forward and peeked at the face under the hood. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Sumi? Sumi, that you?" 

The Witch gave a weak smile. “Kazu.” 

Izumi held out her hands. “Hold on. Everybody stop.” 

She pointed to the Witch. “How old are you?” 

“N-Nineteen,” he said, flinching away from her finger. 

“Good. How old are _you?_ ” she asked Kazunari. 

“Same.” 

Izumi nodded once. “Good.” She covered Masumi's ears. “Sakuya, Muku, both of you cover your own. I don’t want either of you hearing me talk like this until you turn eighteen.”

They did so obediently. 

She took in a deep breath. 

“What the _fuck_ is going on!” she roared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading.


	7. Just Hungry Stomachs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curry and talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's something absolutely hysterical about going through the comments on the last chapter where everyone's telling me to stay healthy and drink water KJNFGSKJDFNGSKFDNG
> 
> I hope it pleases everyone to know that after posting, I slept about 14 hours combined

Kazunari threw an arm around threw an arm around the One Eyed Witch, laughing loudly. “Sumi, it’s been like forever! Haven’t seen you for the past three months, where’ve you been?” 

“You _know_ each other?” Izumi asked in disbelief, taking her hands off of Masumi’s ears. 

“You kidding? Sumi’s a total bae!” Kazunari cheered. “We met each other last summer in jail, BFFs ever since.” 

“How…” His words actually processed. “JAIL? _JAIL?_ ” 

Kazunari waved it off. “Don’t look like that, Director! It was a small run in with the Council and a twelve hour detainment period while they collected evidence. But Sumi and I totally bonded!” 

Sakuya shouldered his way to the front. His eyes _glimmered_. “There’s magic jail?” 

The Caster threw him a peace sign. “Well, not really. It was just Sakyo Furuichi’s house, he’s a Hunter who works for the Council. The dude's crazy scary but he had a suuuuper swanky apartment! Total bachelor pad, I want one just like it when I’m older.” 

“I liked the snacks he gave us,” the boy apparently named Sumi said, going dreamy-eyed. “The cookies were really good.” 

“Right?!” 

Izumi held up her hands again, reeling with the new load of information she’d been presented. Where was she supposed to begin? 

“Hey, but you’ve gotten skinnier. You eating alright?” Kazunari asked, taking Sumi’s arm and inspecting the bony limb. 

Sumi stiffened a little. “Here and there... when I get the chance.” 

“That’s no good, dude, you’re going twiggy!” 

Izumi should have known what was going to come out of Sakuya’s mouth before it did, really. It was in the way he jolted a little, like an idea had physically whacked him upside the head. 

“We’re having dinner!” he said ecstatically. “Why don’t you guys come join us? The Director made curry!” 

Kazunari fanned himself. “Well, don’t mind if I do! Always wanted to eat a meal made by a smoking hot girl.” He fluttered his eyelashes at her. 

Sumi took a step back like he’d stumbled on an invisible stone. “Ah, I—no, it’s okay, I can just lift the spell and go. I’m really sorry.” 

Izumi stilled for a moment and, for the first time, finally got to take a good look at him. 

The Witch’s hair was an absolute mess and his clothes were holding on just barely by the stitches. His presence had little if any malevolence coming from it. And Kazunari was unfortunately right, he looked painfully thin. Nineteen years old, was he? Then still just a boy. 

She sighed and prayed to whatever might be up there that she wouldn’t regret this. “It’s better than just standing here, isn’t it? Both of you leave your shoes on the rack, I don’t want dirt all over the floor. I’ll go get some more plates.” 

Masumi scowled. “You’re just gonna let them in?” 

“They’re hungry,” she said softly. “I made too much curry anyways.” 

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I could eat it all. I could eat anything you make." 

She rolled her eyes but gave him a pat on the back. 

“Sweeeeeeeet,” Kazunari said, not needing any more of an invite. He ruffled Sakuya’s hair and grabbed Sumi by the wrist, dragging him inside. “Pardon the intrusion!” 

Sumi dug his heels in by the threshold before taking a real step over it. He looked at Izumi with a strange, skittish look in his eye. “Is it really okay?” 

She pushed him over the line into the entryway. “I said it already, didn’t I?” 

“…Okay.” 

Izumi paused. “Could you lift the spell on Citron first?” 

“Y-Yes.” 

“Good.” Man, he standards were lowered. “I'd say that would warrant a plate of curry as a reward.”

* * *

Izumi showed him to Citron’s room and watched as Sumi leaned over the Seer, muttering something. A strange blue spark flew from Citron’s eyelids and a tense minute passed where nothing happened. Then the Seer stirred a little, fingertips twitching and eyebrows drawing together. 

His eyes snapped open and soon he was grinning with a lucidity like the bastard had been _pretending_ to sleep all this while. “Nice to see you again, young man.” 

Sumi ducked his head. “I’m sorry… for cursing you.” 

Citron stretched. “I had the bestest of dreams! It was nice. Just what a doctor would recommend." 

Izumi let out a soft sigh that sounded suspiciously like a sob even to herself. “About goddamn time, you lazy bum.” 

He had the _nerve_ to smile at her, impish. “Thank you for taking care of me, Director. No fears when I was sleeping because I knew you were there, I am happy to report.” 

Citron struggled to get out of bed, knees wobbly from the few days of non-use. She gently shrugged his arm onto her shoulder and helped him with the first few steps. “You go unconscious again and I’ll draw a mustache on you.” 

“Are you mad because I broke your heart?” he teased. 

“Watch it.” 

Citron glanced at the Witch who’d awoken him and held his hand out. “What is your name, boy?” 

“Misumi,” he said quietly, finally putting his hand on the one offered to him and holding it gently. “Thank you. For talking to me.” 

“You’re hungry, aren’t you? Let’s go put some meat on your inside sticks!” Citron cried, giving Misumi a firm shake. “The Director’s curry is very good! …The first few times.” 

Izumi laughed and wiped a tear away with her thumb, hoping neither of them would see it. “I’ll drop you here and let you crawl the rest of the way, ass. And they’re called bones.” 

Citron opened the door and was immediately knocked down as Muku came launching from seemingly nowhere. 

“Citron!” he yelped, wrapping his arms around him. “You’re awake! Just like you said!” 

The Seer’s eyes went soft as he patted the top of Muku’s head. “Yes, yes. It was very good you were there to hear me, Muku. I am not sure how fate would have turned out had you not been there. You are turning to be more talented than I had foreseen!” 

The boy’s face went red from the praise. “I-I-It wasn’t anything, really." 

“Would you help me to the kitchen?” Citron asked with a serene smile. “I would like to avoid the future where Masumi attacks me for being so close to the Director.” 

She nudged him with her knee. “You’re being silly, he wouldn’t do that.” 

He shot her a grave look. “No. He would.” 

“…Fair enough.” 

Muku took her place as Citron’s human crutch and she walked ahead of them to get their food ready. Kazunari had already helped himself to a heaping pile of rice and curry, scarfing it down. 

“Ish great!” he declared with a full mouth. 

“Eat like a civilized human or starve,” she shot back, but was infinitely pleased he liked it. 

Sakuya smiled like the sun. “Citron, you’re awake!” 

Citron waved at him, taking small steps forward with Muku at his side. 

Izumi put two more helpings on the table, snapping her fingers and willing the arm chair towards them to compensate for the lack of places to sit. It didn’t budge. She sighed. Too heavy for her powers, eh? 

“Can I try?” Sakuya asked. 

A sudden vision, despite not being a Seer, came to mind where the arm chair shot into the table and sent everything flying. “Maybe when you get a little more control of your powers, kid.” 

“I got it!” Kazunari called, and scribbled a Rune sequence in the air. 

He sent it shooting towards the arm chair and then jerked his hand like pulling a string no one else could see. The arm chair came sliding across the floor before stopping right at the end of the table. 

If Sakuya vibrated any harder, he would turn into a blur. “What was that?” 

“Sticky Hands Rune!” Kazunari said and puffed his chest out. “My own invention.” 

“You’re a Caster? Like Tsuzuru?” Sakuya asked. 

Kazunari leaned closer and mock-whispered, “Don’t tell him I told you this, but I think I’m an even better Caster than Tsuzuruoon is." 

“ _Wow_ ,” Sakuya gasped. “Can I learn that Sticky Hands Rune thing?” 

“Sure! You got pen and paper on you?” 

Citron took his seat. “It is good to know everyone is still lively. Thank you for saving me, Masumi.” 

The Hunter clicked his tongue and looked away. “Whatever.” Were his ears red? That was cute. 

There was one chair left empty. Izumi peeked down the hall. “Misumi, you coming? The food's gonna get cold.” 

Their guest seemed at a loss for what to do. “I’m allowed to sit at the table?” 

Izumi felt a few things from hearing those words. Confusion, discomfort, a rush of horror, concern. All in a rapid sequence, one after the other. 

Messy, uncut hair. Dirty clothes. Skinny wrists. An eye that kept stealing glances to make sure things were still safe and relaxed. Nervous energy, like he was ready to flee at a moment’s notice. 

He was only nineteen years old, wasn’t he? 

Maybe it wasn’t fair of her to jump to conclusions, or to assume. But she’d rather that than turn a blind eye. 

“Misumi,” she settled on saying softly. “What’s your last name?” 

He seemed caught off guard by the question. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“I don’t remember... anything before five years ago.” 

She took a step towards him. “Where’s your family?” 

Misumi took a step away from her. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t?” 

He shook his head. 

Five years ago. He’d been fourteen? Maybe thirteen? A surge of nausea nearly overwhelmed her. “Can I ask where you’ve been staying?” 

His eye immediately looked away to the ceiling and then the ground. “Ah. Around. Here and there. Where there’s room.” 

He was homeless. 

It didn’t matter if he was a Witch. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know who he was. Suddenly, none of it mattered. He was just a boy without a home who was too thin and looked too scared. 

“Curry isn’t nearly half as good when it’s cold,” Izumi said promptly, turning around and walking back to the kitchen. “I’ll be insulted if you don’t sit down with the rest of us and start eating, you know. Not to brag, but I’ve been told that I make the meanest roux on this side of the country.” 

She took two large strides and looked over her shoulder. “You coming or not, kiddo?” 

Misumi stared at her with wonder and then took a few small steps in her path. “Okay.” 

She and Citron shared one long, knowing look as Misumi sat next to Muku and stared at his meal like he couldn’t truly believe it was in front of him. Even now, Izumi wasn’t sure how much a Seer knew about someone just from staring into their souls but she figured it was at least as much as she knew by then. 

“Thank you for the meal,” Misumi said with a start like he had just barely remembered his manners, and then started shoveling in spoonful after spoonful as fast as he could. As though they would snatch the food away from him in the next second. 

She started running him a glass of water from the tap. “There’s plenty more where it came from.” 

“Not fair!” Kazunari shouted. “He can eat like that and I can’t?!” 

“My dorm, my rules,” Izumi replied, willfully ignoring the bit about the building being under Matsukawa’s name. 

Witch, Caster, Seer, Hunter. None of it mattered, really. When the sun went down and everyone gathered to eat, they were all the same. Just hungry stomachs that wanted a good meal, right? 

“Is it good?” she asked. 

Misumi nodded furiously. “Yes.” 

“We have a few rooms still free. If you’d like, you can stay the night. The showers are free and we can probably find something for you to sleep in.” 

Misumi clutched his spoon and swallowed something besides curry. He blinked rapidly. “...Thank you.” 

Citron snorted like he’d seen this coming. Izumi allowed the sound without comment. Maybe she was predictable. So what? 

“Slumber party!” Kazunari crowed. 

“ _You_ can go home.” 

“What? Why?! Sooooooo not fair!"

* * *

“Misumi,” Izumi said quietly as she sat on the edge of the Witch’s bed later that night. “Tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask you some more questions. A friend of mine is going to be there to hear the answers too. But it’s because I need to know some things about you before letting you stay here. Will that be okay?” 

The room was too dark for her to see his face, but maybe that was a blessing for them both. “You’re going to let me stay?” 

“A Coven exists so that magicians have a place to call home.” She added, “Especially those who might not have a home otherwise. You’re welcome to be with us for as long as you’d like, really. But… you still summoned a demon. You still cast a spell on one of our own using black magic. You get why I have to be suspicious, don’t you?” 

“…Yes.” 

She indulged herself a little by leaning over and tucking him in properly. “I’m going to have to trim your hair soon. It’s like a rat’s nest.” 

His hand shot out and gripped her arm as she got up to leave. A wordless, silent plea for her to stay. 

So she did. She sat on the edge of his bed a little longer until his breathing turned slow and steady. 

Izumi wondered why tragedy seemed to cling to every Witch like glue. Why magic had such a cruel, ultimately meaningless price. 

Not under her watch, she swore to herself. They would not suffer as long as she had something to say about it.

* * *

The next afternoon, Tsuzuru and Itaru returned to the Coven. 

Izumi had prepared for a variety of reactions once she explained the occurrences of the night prior. 

She had _not_ prepared, unfortunately, for Itaru to take one sniff of the air and then grab her around the throat. 

“Where are they,” the demon growled, pupils turned to slits. 

It was moments like these when she couldn’t breathe and was staring into pools of hot pink that she remembered, they really did have a demon living with them, didn’t they? Wild. 

Masumi, bless his strange heart, barreled into Itaru and forced the soldier of hell down to the ground, kitchen knife in hand as a weapon. “Don’t you _dare_ fucking touch her.” 

Itaru sneered. “Try it, Hunter. My blood will sear your hands clean off." 

Izumi rubbed her neck and rested a hand on Masumi’s head. “Language, Masumi.” 

“He just tried to _hurt you—_ “ 

“You can swear under this roof when you’re eighteen,” she said firmly. She crouched and looked at the demon point blank. “Itaru, I’ll say this once and once only. The next time you act out like that, I’ll make you pray you never crawled out of wherever you came from. Understand?” 

“Where is my summoner,” he snarled, fangs out. 

“Not anywhere you’ll have access to with that attitude." 

Tsuzuru dropped his duffel bag on the floor. Somehow, he looked healthier than he had in a long, long time. Maybe it was because he’d finally gotten a full night’s sleep at the Sakisaka household, maybe it was because he hadn’t been anywhere near that slime he toiled over obsessively. Maybe it just turned out that he was kind of allergic to Izumi and the Coven. 

“Should I even ask? I got back not even a minute ago and I’m already not following,” Tsuzuru said. 

Izumi got up and beckoned him over. “Citron’s already in the office. We have a lot to get through.” 

He sagged, suddenly looking tired again. “Clearly. You know, Mr. Sakisaka likes doing jigsaw puzzles. We all sat in his living room last night and worked on one with five hundred pieces. He gave us pretzel sticks and warm milk. Why don’t we ever do something like that here?” 

Izumi gave him a sorry rub on the back. 

“I’ll kill the Hunter should you turn your back, halfblood!” Itaru roared. 

She clapped her hands to her cheeks and gasped, eyes widening to a comical size. “WILL you now! Oh my, my, my. Simply shocking!” She bowed, mockery dripping from the action. “Does the visitor from hell needs our highest form of defense then? SAKUYA!” 

The Witchling appeared holding a Swiffer mop. “Ye—? MASUMI, GET OFF OF HIM!” 

“He tried to kill the Director,” Masumi snapped. 

“He WHAT? _MISTER ITARU!_ ” 

The demon glared at her. “You play dirty.” 

“Bite me,” she said with a wave as she strolled down the hall, Tsuzuru trailing after her. 

“It’s always life or death dramatic bullshit around here, huh,” Tsuzuru sighed. 

“Not by choice!” Once in the office, she slammed the door behind them. “Charm it.” 

“Silencer or barrier?” 

“Both and then some.” 

Tsuzuru raised an eyebrow. “That bad?” 

“Just taking precautions.” 

As he doled out the Runes, she took the middle seat at the desk. To her left was Citron, who looked as detached and peaceful as always. Across from her was Misumi, looking much tidier than last night with a fresh undercut but so tense he was quivering. 

Izumi gave him a reassuring smile. “Misumi, this is Tsuzuru. He’s a Caster here at Mankai who helps me teach. Citron’s here to make sure you tell the truth. We trust you, but it’s necessary granted the circumstances.” 

Tsuzuru gave her a _very_ exhausted glower, the kind that looked like he was growing gray hairs just from being in the same room as her. “We trust him now?" 

“Yes, we do.” 

“He _summoned a demon_.” 

She waved the concern off. “And I once got hammered in college and used a bottle of soy sauce for shampoo. We all make some poor decisions now and then, Tsuzuru.” 

The Caster took the last available chair and the questioning went under way. 

“What is your last name?” Izumi asked. 

Misumi shook his head. “I don’t know.” 

“Who is your family?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Are you planning on hurting anybody in the Coven?” 

He shook his head again, this time much more firmly. “No. Never.” 

She glanced at the man sitting beside her for confirmation. 

Citron flashed her a thumbs up. “Nothing but honesty from the young man, Director.” 

She leaned towards him and murmured, “You seeing any memories Misumi might not have?” 

“No. Very blank past.” 

Izumi sighed. Unfortunate, but expected. She directed her next few words towards Misumi again. 

“Misumi, Tsuzuru got trapped in your magic circle and now his soul’s sold to Itaru. _But_ he only gets his soul taken away if Itaru completes the objective you summoned him to do. We need to know why you summoned him to make sure it _doesn’t_ happen.” 

Tsuzuru cried sarcastically, “You _do_ care. I was beginning to think you were gonna feed me to the sharks and forget about it.” 

“Are you mad because I asked Kazunari for help with Runing the room?” 

“AND WHAT IF I AM? SPIT ON MY PRIDE NEXT TIME, WHY DON’T YOU." 

“I never meant for anybody to get scarified,” Misumi whispered, voice breaking in the middle. “I promise. It was just supposed to be me, _only_ me. No one else was supposed to get hurt or involved.” 

“I believe you,” Izumi said, and not just because Citron was giving her a thumbs up again. The truth might as well have been written across Misumi’s face in sharpie with the destroyed expression he was making. “But we _have to know_ the reason he’s here to avoid it from happening.” 

The Witch looked down at his lap. 

“Please?” Izumi begged. 

Misumi said softly, “I don’t want to say it.” 

“Not a word leaves this room, I swear on my honor as a Tachibana Witch.” 

Misumi hesitated and finally raised his head with red on his cheeks. 

He confessed. 

Izumi closed her eyes and let the reason sink in. 

“Alright,” she said frankly, opening them. “Got it. Misumi, I’m going to let you join the Coven under one condition. It’s the only insurance I’m going to hold you to. Tsuzuru is going to lock that memory away so you stay under this roof while not knowing why you summoned Itaru. And unless we’re in a dangerous situation, you will be kept far away from him.” 

“I’m going to _what?_ ” Tsuzuru hissed. 

“Oh please, like you can’t?” Izumi muttered right back. 

“Memory magic is _illegal_.” 

“ _Like you can’t?_ ” she repeated with more heat in her words. 

“…It’s illegal.” 

Izumi seized him around his collar and forced his face closer. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you can’t do it, brat. Look me in the eyes and tell me you never experimented with shit you shouldn’t have. I’ve seen your lab.” 

Tsuzuru twisted his lips into an ugly lour. It was all the answer she needed. 

“I’ll do it!” Misumi said, standing up. “It’s okay.” 

Tsuzuru’s fingertip grew bright blue as he started drafting the curse in the air. “This is going to hurt like a bitch, just warning you.” 

Misumi set his jaw, determined. “If I can stay here, I’m alright with that.” 

Izumi screwed her eyes shut as Tsuzuru sent the Runes flying and Misumi let out a strangled scream. Citron held her hand throughout it all.

* * *

“Could you call Itaru to the office next?” Izumi asked, leaning her forehead on laced fingers and staring at the surface of the desk. 

Misumi was a little disoriented by the gap in memory but nevertheless unharmed. Tsuzuru was helping lead him to his room for a nap. The Seer stayed, frowning heavily as he took a quick glance at the future’s routes. “Director, I do not think that is a good idea.” 

“What’re the chances he kills me?” 

“Ah. Twenty percent? I do not like it.” 

She snorted. “I’ve lived with worse odds. Call him in, please.” 

Citron winced but bowed. “As you wish.” 

And so the demon stood across from her, red and purple flames crackling on his shoulders and licking the sides of his head. He was definitely mad. 

“You know, I thought you liked it here at least a _little_ bit,” Izumi remarked. “I had no idea you were so intent on going back. Or is Tsuzuru’s soul just that good?” 

“I could slap wet cement on baguette pieces and have a better meal compared to your Caster’s watery life force,” Itaru hissed. 

She physically cringed under the weight of the scathing remark. “ _Oof_. Please don’t tell him that, it’d destroy his self confidence.” 

Itaru calmed down enough to take the seat opposite her and cross his legs. The fire on his body down to just barely glowing embers. “Let me make one thing clear, halfblood. I am not insulted because you are keeping my summoner from me. Truly, every miserable body on this plane of existence dies sooner or later. Upon the death of either my summoner or my sacrifice, the contract will be broken and I will return to hell. This ‘vacation’ of mine can last perhaps eighty years, or another hour. I _do not care_. Time is meaningless to an immortal.” 

“Tsuzuru’s not making it another eighty years,” Izumi interrupted, shaking her head. “I’ve seen him eat an entire can of condensed milk in one sitting for breakfast. I’m giving him, like, mid-seventies at _best_.” 

Itaru shrugged. “Apt. That does not concern me. I am continuously _annoyed_ by the lack of respect I get under this roof. You thought you could trick me and deny my right to be by my summoner’s side? I’d rather be revered without having to make an example of my abilities but should push come to shove… well.” He grinned and showed off every razor sharp tooth. “I’m sure your imagination can conceive a few remedies I have in mind.” 

Izumi sighed and wished her headache would go away. 

“Itaru, we all know that you’re fearsome and capable, but worshipping the ground you walk on isn’t in our interest,” she said, slowly picking each and every word since she knew she had a one in five chance of dying. “We didn’t summon you. We didn’t want to get Tsuzuru’s soul sacrificed. It’s an inconvenience to all parties here. Not to mention, Tsuzuru and I… well, we both grew up with very strong anti-black magic rhetorics. Probably Citron as well, but not making any assumptions here.” 

He held up his finger and his thumb, forming an O with them. “Do you know what this is, Director?” 

“No.” 

“How much I care.” 

Izumi looked at the ceiling. “Ouch.” 

“I want respect and that’s that,” the demon drawled. “I detest the… let’s call it ridicule, of being presented a _child’s_ game and being expected to remain docile like some kind of pet. So make me an offer that spares your life, why don’t you?” 

Izumi steepled her fingers and thought for a moment. “Okay. Number one, I want to make it explicitly clear that Animal Crossing New Horizons is for audiences of ages three and up. Three and _up_. It’s a popular game for a lot of adults. Number two… I think I have an idea that’ll make both of us happy, but you’re going to have to wait a week or two before it gets delivered.” 

“Demons do not _wait_ ,” Itaru seethed, flames erupting from his shoulders once more. 

She inched away from the heat. “You will for this. _And_ you won’t kill me for the next week, that’s a guarantee.” 

He got up slowly, menacingly, and sat on the edge of the desk. One hand reached forward to press the tip of a long, black talon right underneath the soft of her jaw. Like he would spear it right through her skull with another word he didn’t like. “Why so confident, pray tell?” 

Izumi reached over to grab her calendar and show him the month. 

He stared at the little box with the red circle. “You play so, _so_ dirty.” 

“That’s why I’m still alive,” she said sweetly. 

Itaru took away his finger. “We really should have talks like these more often, Director. They’re quite lovely.” 

Izumi figured she could have a mental breakdown over those words later. She shot him the biggest, fakest smile she could. “Totally." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to throw in a bittersweet chapter because Misumi deserves the comfort
> 
> edit: super unimportant note but we just reached 69 kudos and i celebrated with a bag of cashews so thank you for enabling me


	8. Roone™️

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakuya's birthday

“Director!” Matsukawa called from the entryway. “You’ve got a package!” 

She slammed her laptop shut and went running. 

“Oh, thank you, sweet baby Jesus,” Izumi just about sobbed as she got down on her knees and pressed a kiss onto the cardboard. Then she started tearing it open. “I would have been so screwed if this delivery was late.” 

“What did you order?” Matsukawa asked, crouching by her side. 

“Gaming computer.” 

“…Oh?” 

Izumi turned to the hall and yelled, “HEY, ITARU.” 

The demon poked his head in, holding a beer. “What.” 

“It’s like two in the afternoon, why are you already drinking?” 

He sipped it. “Down in hell, we have a type of whiskey fermented from the tears of sinners. The alcohol is so potent and concentrated, should a mortal even lick a drop they would collapse in on themselves and die.” 

Izumi cleared her throat. “Cool.” 

Itaru showed her his teeth. “I used to have a bowl every morning with my cornflakes. This _beer_ might as well be water.” 

She raised her hands in a surrendering motion. “You do you. But I will say this, if it becomes a problem I WILL start forming an intervention to help you. Because I care. Anyways, help me bring this into your room.” 

He flicked his finger and the box rose into the air. 

“Is this your incentive to keep me from killing you?” Itaru drawled, peering inside. “What is this?” 

“The rest of my savings account,” Izumi muttered. So much for saving up and trying to deal with college loans. Raising her voice, she said, “C’mon, I’ll help you go set it up. There should be a bundle of the top five bloodiest first person shooter games inside.” 

Itaru narrowed his eyes. “More _games?_ Do you enjoy mocking me?” 

She slapped him on the back and had to laugh. “Sweetie, let me introduce you to Animal Crossing’s cousin: Doom Eternal."

* * *

Sakuya loved magic. 

If someone asked him, he would say that he loved magic more than he’d ever loved anything else.

But maybe, besides being able to do the impossible, he especially loved the things that magic had brought into his life. 

“Good morning, Director,” he said warmly, joining the group at the table. 

She slid a slightly burnt fried egg onto his plate. “Is Masumi awake yet?” 

Citron hummed and put two fingers to his temple. He closed his eyes and swayed back and forth. “I see it set in stone… that Masumi will not wake up until he is almost late for school!” 

“You didn’t really use foresight, did you?” Izumi asked flatly. 

Tsuzuru scoffed into the bacon. “There are some things you don’t need to be a Seer to know.” 

Sakuya laughed. 

He’d been laughing a lot recently. Laughing more than he could remember having done so in the past. 

“Triangle!” Misumi cried, showing off the mountain of rice on his plate arranged prettily into a perfect equilateral triangle. He cut it in the middle and arranged it into two smaller ones. “ _Two_ triangles!” 

Izumi flicked his forehead. “Stop playing with your food.” 

“Okay!” He inhaled the massive amount in what must have been record time and held his plate back out. “Seconds, please!” 

“You’re a bottomless pit, aren’t you?” Izumi asked. 

Her voice was sharp but Sakuya knew that ever since Misumi had joined them, the Director had taken to waking up before the sun. All to make three batches of rice instead of two and make sure they were all eating enough to burst. 

It was the small things like that that made his chest squeeze. 

Sakuya loved magic _and_ the Director more than he’d ever loved anything else. 

“I’m late!” Muku cried as he came running out of his room, hair going every which way. “I’m sorry, Director, I said I’d show up early to help with club decorations and I completely forgot! I’ll be back home on time though, I promise.” 

She tossed him a slice of toast and a box of strawberry milk. “Did you pack everything?” 

“I think so!” he said over his shoulder as he crammed the bread into his mouth and ran out the door. 

Tsuzuru glanced at the clock and finished off his own breakfast. “I should get going too, I’ve got an exam today.” 

Izumi sniffled and wiped away a fake tear. “Ah… birds leave the nest all at once, don’t they?” 

“Don’t be weird.” 

Sakuya stood up. “I’m going to go get Masumi for school!” 

“Your funeral, not mine,” Izumi said as she turned on the faucet. “Misumi, come help me with the dishes.” 

“Okay!" 

When Sakuya burst into Masumi’s dorm room, he was greeted with a similar sight as always. Masumi always slept rolled up in his blankets like a burrito. Which, objectively, was _very_ cute but an absolute pain in the ass to get him out of. When one blanket was removed, Masumi simply rolled over and covered himself with another. 

Sakuya struggled. “C’mon, wake up already. You’re gonna be late! We don’t have to do this every single day, do we?” 

Masumi only let out a quiet groan and rolled up further. 

“MASUMI!”

* * *

“You can’t sleep and walk at the same time!” Sakuya told Masumi as he just about carried his junior to their high school. 

“Mmm…” was the only response he got.

* * *

When Sakuya got back to the dorms, by himself this time since Masumi had left early for a dentist appointment, he saw that all the lights were off. Yet he still called “I’m home,” to the empty building through sheer habit. 

When was the last time he’d been alone in the dorms, he wondered? It had been a while, that was for sure. Before the Director had arrived and brought with her a whole storm of people. Now, there was always activity going on inside the Coven’s building.

Before, though, it had been a quiet month of eating convenience store meals in front of the TV. Alone when Matsukawa was out, which happened to be quite often. Buying this and that to help put the crumbling dorms back in order. 

_What should I do before they come back?_ Sakuya asked himself. Maybe he could wipe down the floors. Do the laundry. He would cook, but clumsy hands unfortunately turned the outcome of an edible meal into a roulette. 

He took two steps down the hall.

The lights turned on. 

“SURPRISE!” 

Citron popped a party cracker. Little bits of confetti and streamer rained down on his head. 

Everyone was standing in the kitchen. The Director, Masumi, Citron, all of them. Matsukawa had on weird sunglasses with frames shaped like stars that had little multicolored LED lights. Even Kazunari who didn’t live with them was there, hands raised with a goofy grin on his face. They had all just been waiting in the dark around the table. 

A table that had a cake on it, he realized.

“W-What’s all this for?” Sakuya stammered. 

“ _Eighteen!_ Congrats, Saku, seriously,” Kazunari yelped as he leapt forward and slapped a little paper cone hat onto Sakuya’s head. “Only happens once, you know, so cherish it!” 

Sakuya stared at all of them. “I’m…” 

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Izumi asked. “Your file said the ninth of March.” 

He stared at the _birthday_ cake with a tall candle in the very center, surrounded by eight smaller ones. “It is, but—“ 

Sakuya let out a shrill screech as Citron nearly toppled him over in a bear hug. “For he’s a holly good pillow, for he’s a holly good pillow!” 

“He’s a _jolly_ good _fellow_ , Citron,” Tsuzuru said exhaustedly. “Let go of him, you’re going to make him motion sick.” 

“The Director almost ordered you Napolitan cake until we talked her out of it,” Itaru informed him with crossed arms. “So you’re welcome. It’s vanilla buttercream. Which is _normal_. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” 

“You’re such a killjoy!” she whined. “He could have liked it but now we’ll never know.”

Kazunari thrust a box wrapped with pink paper into Sakuya’s hands. “Open mine first, you’re gonna love it. I’ve got a reputation for being the best gift-giver in this city.” 

Tsuzuru snatched it away and put the present on top a pile of others. “After the cake, idiot, we discussed this.” 

“Whaaaat? You’re just mad because Sakusaku’s totally gonna like mine more than yours!” 

Sakuya took a fistful of his sweater and squeezed. His chest… hurt. “I get presents? You got me presents?” 

Izumi poked his forehead. “Obviously. What’s with the slow uptake, kiddo? It’s your _birthday_.” 

Masumi steered him to the table and forced him to sit down. “Blow out the candles already. I wanna eat it.” 

“Stop manhandling him,” Itaru said.

“I got you a triangle for your birthday!” Misumi said.

“SUMI! It’s supposed to be a surprise!”

“Oh, oops.”

“D-Do we sing the song now?” Muku asked hesitantly. 

Masumi frowned. “Do we? Dunno how to do this.” 

“You’re all so bad at partying,” Izumi said with no ill-will and clapped her hands. “Everyone start singing on the count of three, ready? Three, two…!” She stopped. “Sakuya?" 

Sakuya felt an odd tickle in his nose. He rubbed it and sniffled, but the itch refused to go away. His eyes hurt too.

“Kiddo?” Izumi said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, hey. Look at me. You alright?” 

He opened his mouth to answer but found that no words could come out. He cleared his throat and tried to get his breathing under control. The room was turning blurry. His face felt hot. The chattering died down and the only noise left were his hiccuping gasps. 

“I…” Sakuya took in a shuddering breath and let a small, small whine escape. “I…” 

Warm. So warm. He could barely make out the candlelight, reduced to just orange blurs. He wiped his eyes but the tears refused to stop. Tsuzuru silently handed him a damp paper towel. He wiped his face. 

“Thank you,” Sakuya whispered. It wasn’t for the towel though. He gripped the Director’s hand and repeated it. “Thank you so much.”

It was embarrassing, remarked the singular part of his mind that wasn’t overwhelmed. Embarrassing to cry in front of a room full of people as they all looked at him. But still he couldn’t stop. So he sat there, as the wax sticks atop the cake grew shorter and shorter, dripping color onto the frosting. Sat there and cried where they could all see. 

Soft, cool hands cupped his face and thumbs gently wiped the tears from his cheeks. 

He could just barely make out the Director’s face, smiling at him with sad eyes that looked like they _knew_. 

“Happy birthday, Sakuya,” she said. “C’mon. Blow out your candles.” 

And so he leaned over and did.

* * *

Itaru opened the door and barked, “ _What?_ I am _trying_ to get on the leaderboard.” 

“Is this a bad time?” Sakuya asked with a pillow hugged tightly to his chest. “I wanted to talk to you. I can come back some other time." 

Itaru blinked and held the door open further. “No. Come in.” 

Sakuya sat on the floor as Itaru went cross-legged on the bed. Neither of them spoke, the only light offered to the room coming from his PC. 

“What do you need, birthday boy?” the demon prompted finally when the silence stretched longer than he liked. 

Sakuya leaned his chin down onto his pillow. “I… I wanted to ask someone. But I didn’t know who else to talk to besides you.” 

So the kid chose a demon? Itaru chose not to comment on the decision right then and there. The Witchling looked at a loss. “Whatever. Ask away.” 

“Is this okay?” Sakuya asked quietly. 

Itaru wasn’t sure if it was a human custom he was missing out on, or whether the question was truly vague. “Is what okay?” 

“For me to be this happy?” 

Itaru furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?” 

Sakuya finally raised his face and Itaru felt uncomfortable when he spotted the tear tracks upon the Witchling’s cheeks. The party had been awkward enough but now he was crying? In front of him? “Is it _okay_ for me to be happy? Do I deserve to?" 

…Strange, Itaru thought. He glanced at the wall, unsure of what to feel granted the circumstances. It felt like Sakuya was confessing a sin he’d committed. To a demon, nonetheless. What an odd situation. 

Amusing. Almost. 

“Does one need to deserve happiness?” Itaru said finally. 

It was a peculiar concept; joy. Elation. A high that came with existence. Humans chased after it with the same starvation that dogs chased after thrown bones. Maybe it was their way to compensate for their short lifespans. 

Their lives came to an end. So why live at all? For happiness, they would tell themselves. 

To humans, Itaru knew, happiness was a means to an end. Ultimately worthless and without a point but could keep any person on the earth until their time ran out. 

Itaru wanted to laugh a little. Humans were so very, very stupid. Trapped in an ugly slot between denial and comprehension to accept that their lives were futile and without purpose. Deserve? Earn? Justify? 

What did those words even mean, Itaru had to wonder. 

“I don’t—I can’t help but feel like this isn’t right.” 

Itaru pursed his lips. “Witchling, you claim to be happy yet all you have done is cry and cry.” 

“I can’t h-help it. I’m scared. What if I never feel this happy again? What if this is my limit?” The words started slowly before they devolved into panicked blubbers. “What did I do to feel happy? I didn’t _do_ anything, I never—what if someone finds out that I didn’t do anything and takes the happiness away?" 

“Why would they do that?” Itaru asked right back. 

The Witchling was hiccuping and heaving for breath, forcing the words out of him like they were poison. “To give it to someone who _does_ deserve it. I don’t want them to take it away from me, I know it's selfish but I can’t help myself.” 

Humans were so very, very stupid. 

Sakuya’s voice cracked. “Am I going to go to hell, Itaru?” 

Itaru raised an eyebrow. “We already discussed this.” 

“Tell me,” Sakuya begged, clasping his hands together as though in prayer. “Please... tell me I’m not going to go to hell. Promise me. _Please._ ” 

“You are not going to hell.” 

Sakuya wept like a newborn, fingers over his mouth like the bars of a cage to keep the noises in. And because existence was meaningless, Itaru told himself, he chose to let the boy cry. 

He would never understand humans.

* * *

Tsuzuru kicked the office door open. 

Quite literally rammed the heel of his foot against the wood when he could have very well _opened_ the damn thing using his hands. 

“Say I’m a fucking genius,” he demanded. 

Izumi put down her book slowly. “Tsuzuru, when’s the last time you got some sleep?” 

“Monday. Say it right now.” 

She closed her eyes and sighed. “You’re a fucking genius.” 

Sometimes it was better to just go along with the whims of a madman. Especially when the rings under the madman's eyes were so prominent, it looked like he’d gotten punched in the face several times. 

“YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT I AM.” He slammed a stack of papers in front of her, stapled thrice on the left edges. “Read it and weep, Director. Kazunari wouldn’t be able to come _close_ to something like this, modern magic my ass. It’s the classics that are golden. Always the classics.” 

She flicked past the first page labelled **ROOM RUNE (roone? copyright at later date) SEQUENCE; DRAFT 26** in big, bold letters like a college essay. On the first page was an entire block of small, immaculate Runes written in pen. Which was more or less exactly what the other thirty pages on the pile had. Was this all just one ginormous sequence? Izumi shuddered. Tsuzuru was the quiet type but he could be a real monster when it came to spell casting. 

Most of the Runes she wasn’t sure if she was reading properly, but she tried. _Expand. Structure. Reinforce. Build. Compact. Hold._

“Tsuzuru, is this…?” she asked tentatively after reading the first page. 

He grinned. “Yes. Yes it is.” 

Izumi took in a deep breath. “Alright. I can say it again, then. You’re a fucking _genius_.” 

“Thank you.” And then Tsuzuru collapsed in front of her. She peered at him over the edge of her desk, but supposed the boy could stay there and sleep a little longer while she read through the packet.

* * *

“Hellos!” Kazunari sang as Izumi welcomed him in. “Show me where I gotta get crack-a-lackin’!” 

Izumi chuckled. “I like the enthusiasm, at least. You’ll be working with Tsuzuru today.” 

“He helping me out with the plans?” he asked. 

“He drew up a few of his own as well.” 

Kazunari blew a raspberry. “That Tsuzuroon… Always tryna steal my thunder. I let him slide with it every now and then because he’s a cutie but I wanted to look cool for you!” 

Izumi led him to the spare room they had, where Tsuzuru had already tacked each sheet from the packet onto the walls. 

“Kazu’s here?” Misumi asked, popping his head into the room. 

“SUMI!” Kazunari yelled, grabbing him around the middle and trying to spin them both around. He instead went toppling over. As he rubbed the newly rising lump on his head, he laughed loudly. " _Jesus,_ dude, you got fatter than last time.” 

Misumi gave a big smile. “Yeah! They have so much rice here! I get to eat a lot every single day.” 

“Pound it, body positivity,” Kazunari said and help up a fist. “We love to see it.” 

Misumi bumped their fists together. 

“What are you here for?” he asked, getting up and helping the Caster to his feet as well.

Kazunari winked and help up his folder. “Director asked me to help out with Runing the room.” 

“We’re calling it a Roone Sequence,” Tsuzuru said as he entered wearing an oversized gray t-shirt and basketball shorts. He looked like he was just about to hit up the gym for a workout. “No U, double O, and yes I’m copyrighting it.” 

Misumi “ooh”ed and sat cross-legged on the floor. “Can I help? Or watch?” 

Tsuzuru and Izumi immediately shot each other a _look_. They kept staring, making slightly different facial expressions and jerking their chins this way and that. 

Kazunari leaned over and whispered, “I think they’re communicating telephonically.”  
“We should learn how to do that,” Misumi whispered back.

“Heeeeeeell yeah!”

Finally Tsuzuru relented, heaving a great big sigh. “How good are you with Runes? I know you made that summoning circle but… can you handle the legal kind?”

Misumi saluted. “Really good!” 

“Really _well,_ you mean. Thensure. We could use some controlled Witch magic.” 

“We do?” Kazunari asked. He glanced at his folder. “Uh, mine doesn’t take that much magic energy.”

Tsuzuru slammed his hand on the wall, gesturing wildly to his papers. “Read them.” 

So Kazunari and Misumi did. 

“I don’t get it,” Misumi said first, breaking the quiet. 

Kazunari, on the other hand, let out a low whistle as he took off his hat in respect. “Hoooooly _shit_ , Tsuzuroon. You’re a fucking genius.” 

“What is it?” Misumi asked as he gave Kazunari’s sleeve a pull. 

“Dimension expansion. He drew up a Rune sequence to make the inside way bigger than the outside. Not that that should be possible, but here we are.” Kazunari squinted when the sequence got jumbled on page twelve. “You could make _major_ bank off of this kinda thing if you sell it. Seriously, this is incredible.” 

Tsuzuru closed his eyes and just took a moment to himself, letting the well-deserved praise and respect wash over him. He lavished in it and then came back to reality. “Why do you think I want it copyrighted? I’ll work on the sequence some more later, draft twenty-six can only be applied to one room per building before the structure and stability is compromised.” 

Misumi frowned. “Huh?” 

Tsuzuru pursed his lips. “We do this to another room, the building goes boom.” 

“That rhymed!” the Witch said cheerfully. “That’s great. Oh, oh, wait. I get it. Not great.” 

“Yep.” 

Kazunari rolled up his sleeves and took out a long elastic headband from a pocket, pushing his bangs back. “This is… going to be a lot of work, huh?" 

Izumi waved over her shoulder as she left the room. “Good luck. I’ll call you guys when lunch is ready.” 

“Another meal from the Director? Heck, then I better be ready to put my best work into this thing!” Kazunari said loudly. 

And so the two Casters and one Witch began their task of transcribing near fifty thousand Runes into the air around them. 

While they did so, the Seers were going through another lesson in the courtyard. 

“Mister Citron?” Muku asked as the older scattered pebbles on the concrete. “How many ways are there to divine the future?” 

Citron blinked. “How many have we gone over?” 

Muku started counting off on his fingers. “Tea leaves, playing cards, dice, palm reading, water, alphabet soup, bird watching… And now pebbles. Are there a lot?” 

“Would you like to know a secret?” Citron prompted. 

His apprentice nodded fervently. 

“Seer magic is within you constantly.” He scattered another handful of pebbles. “It is just difficult to channel it. So I do this and that to get inspiration.” 

Muku seemed to think on this. “So… if I wanted to see the future in strawberry milk, I could?” 

“If strawberry milk inspires you, yes!” 

Citron sat on the ground and stared at the pebbles. Somewhere in the back of his mind, there came the image of a fluttering black jacket and the smell of baking apples. He hummed to himself. Where had he seen that jacket before? 

“The councilman, right?” 

Citron started, snapping his gaze to the boy who stood next to him. “Ah?” 

“The jacket. The councilman was wearing it. I met him when I first came to Mankai.” His blue eyes were wide and honest. 

He had not sent that thought to Muku, had he? 

Citron stood and dusted off his clothes, musing to himself. Coming from a long line of Seers himself, he’d forgotten just how monstrously quick Firstborns were to learn. Perhaps…? 

“Muku, come with me.” 

He swept off to inside the living room, where Izumi seemed to be outlining some more lesson plans. 

“Director, how are you doing today?” he asked jovially as Muku pitter-pattered after him like a duckling. 

She leaned back and pressed the bridge of her nose. “I’ve been better. I’m trying to figure out what Masumi’s lessons should be besides just… basic exercises, but there aren’t a lot of references in the archives.” 

“Did Mankai Coven not have many Hunters?” 

“Almost none. But he’s here, so I need to give him the best I can.” She put her pen down. “Enough about that, though. How are lessons going with you two?” 

Citron put a hand on Muku’s shoulders. “He is very bright! We may move on from foresight soon. I would like you to help us.” 

Izumi blinked and pointed to herself. “Me?” 

“Indeed!” 

She shrugged. “Alright. What do you need me to do?” 

He leaned down to Muku’s height and murmured, voice hushed, in his ear, “Ask her anything.” 

Muku looked alarmed by this. “W-What? But I don’t…” 

“ _Make her lie._ ” 

And then Citron took two steps away from them both, letting a comfortable smile spread on his face. 

The Director had a very soft presence. One’s soul said plenty about the person it belonged to. Tsuzuru’s soul was green and soft, like the grass on a meadow. Sakuya’s was marvelously gold and brighter than anybody else’s. Warmth nearly radiated from every part of him, like the pink promise of a sunrise. And the Director—her’s was white and blue. Soft. Like a gingham blanket. Like the sky. 

When someone lied, their soul _always_ darkened. If even for a second. Would Muku be able to see? 

The boy in question squirmed a little. “Uh… Ah. Um, Director? When is your birthday?” 

“September ninth,” she said immediately. 

“What… What is your favorite color?” 

“I like a lot. Maybe blue?” 

Muku’s face turned red as he got an idea. “Have you ever f-fallen in love?” 

Whenever this question was asked in manga, the heroine always blushed and looked away, before saying something adorable like, _“No, d-dummy, of course I haven’t! Hmph, you’re being stupid! G-Go away!”_ That technically counted as a lie, right?

Izumi cocked her head to the side. “Sure have, a couple of times. Seriously, what’s up with the questions?” 

“I can’t do it!” Muku wailed, covering his face and sprinting to his room. “She’s too old!” 

“I’m _WHAT?_ ” she bellowed. “I’M TWENTY-FOUR!" 

Citron winced. Okay, so perhaps that did not go as well as he had thought it would.

* * *

It was a rare occurrence for Masumi to open the front door, but the bell had rung and he’d been closest. 

So that was how he and Sakyo Furuichi met eyes. 

“Is Miss Tachibana in?” Sakyo asked. 

Masumi slammed the door shut in his face. 

“Who was it?” Izumi asked as she finished cutting up an onion and added it to the pot. 

“No one,” Masumi said. 

The doorbell rang again and she rolled her eyes. “I’m so sure. I’ll get it this time.” 

“You’ve picked up a rude little mongrel, haven’t you,” Sakyo said flatly upon seeing her. 

She jabbed a finger to his chest. “Hey. He’s still a charge of mine so watch your mouth.” 

Sakyo offered her a tense smile. “Alright. I will apologize for my choice in words. May I come in?” 

“Care to join us for lunch?” she said, gesturing him to follow her. “Or it this a super serious talk? The office is open.” 

“Hardly. I’m just here to let you know that the Council has informed me of Sakuya Sakuma’s quest date. It is officially set for May tenth.” 

Izumi winced. “That’s only two months away.” 

“It is indeed. I should hope you will have him adequately taught and trained by then.” 

Masumi made a face when they rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. “You let him inside? Why?” 

“Brat,” Sakyo hissed under his breath but said no more upon receiving a glare from Izumi. 

Who, as it turned out, was a raging hypocrite, because she flicked a finger on the teenager’s forehead and said, “Don’t be a brat. You should have let him in in the first place.” 

“…Fine.” But the look he shot Sakyo was far from pleasant once Izumi turned her back. 

Two could play at that game. Was it immature? Maybe. Did he care? In that moment when he had a headache, absolutely not. So Sakyo gave him the middle finger and then went to Izumi’s side, asking her if her day’s been going well. 

“Hm? Fine, I guess, just—“ Her eyes shot open wide as she let out a dramatic gasp. She grabbed Sakyo’s hands and pulled him close. 

“Wh—“ 

“Get off of her!” Masumi yelled as he stood up. 

“She grabbed _me!_ ” 

Izumi leaned towards him. “Sakyo, you’re perfect! Everything I’ve been looking for! Everything I _need!_ ” 

This was going much too fast. His ears went red. “Excuse me?” 

“You can be Masumi’s tutor!” she gushed. 

“ _Excuse me?_ ” 

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to teach a Hunter on my own but you’re an experienced one! That means you could come in every now and then to help him out, right?" 

Masumi pulled a face. “Don’t want to learn from him.” 

Sakyo gently took his hands from hers and readjusted his glasses. The frames felt cooler on his cheekbones than a moment ago. “I’m afraid that simply wouldn’t be possible, Miss Tachibana.” 

“Oh, call me Director,” she said, waving her hand. “Everyone does. And of course it is!” 

“No, it quite actually is not.” Sakyo disliked the look of betrayal she had on. “Unfortunately, the specifics are classified information due to my work with the council, but my magic is different from that of the average Hunter. While I do fall into the category and express affinity for it, there’s very little I would be able to teach a Firstborn besides basic theory that I’m sure you yourself are capable of.” 

Izumi wilted like she was a flower and Sakyo had just stomped on her. “Ah…” 

Sakyo very much disliked the disappointment that nearly dripped from her. 

…Urgh. 

He sighed very slowly. Would this come back and bite him in the rear? “Perhaps it would suit your purposes better to get in contact with the Sumeragi family.” 

“Sumeragi. That name’s been popping up a lot since I’ve gotten here. Do you know why they're so famous?” 

“A Hunter Bloodline. They teach within the family lineage but they may respond positively to any requests you make of them to take on…” He shot a distasteful look towards Masumi. What word should he use here that wouldn’t get him a verbal lashing? “An outsider." 

Izumi mulled this over. “Hunter Bloodlines are rare, I always wondered why their nameappeared. You don’t see many of those.” 

“The Sumeragi’s Firstborn slew a dragon a century or two ago. They’re very proud of their namesake and their heritage.” 

“A _dragon_. Well.” Izumi clapped her hands. “That sounds doable then. Thank you, Sakyo! I’ll be sure to check the Purple Pages for their address. This means a lot, please, you’ll have to stay for lunch now!” 

He gave her a small smile. “If you would not mind my intrusion, then yes. I’d be very happy to take you up on that offer.” 

“Don’t,” Masumi said coldly. “Go away." 

Izumi ignored him and handed Sakyo a plate. She waved to the rice cooker. “Take as much as you’d like, we make plenty every day. I swear, half of the people living under this roof eat like there’s no tomorrow.” Then she walked towards the hall. “BOYS, LUNCH TIME.” 

A door opened and… someone crawled out on his hands and knees. 

“I need a raise,” that Minagi boy spat before keeling over on the floor. 

A blond one, similar in age, hobbled out next, just barely supporting his weight on the wall. “Director, you’re lucky you’re so hot and I wanna impress you. This is a _killer_ assignment, I feel like I lost ten pounds.” 

Wait, Sakyo unfortunately knew this one, didn’t he? 

“ _You?_ ” he spat poisonously.

Kazunari Miyoshi, aged 19, a halfblood Caster that always seemed to be near trouble the Council had to deal with but never explicitly involved. Annoying at best, a smear upon society at worst. Izumi Tachibana had allowed an errant little weasel like him into her home? 

“Yo, Sakyo, is that you?” Kazunari asked, eyes widening. “Duuuuuuude, it’s been forevsies! How you hanging? Is that a new wrinkle? Damn, man, you totally age like a fine wine. Up top!” 

He ignored the palm offered to him. “What are you doing here?” 

The abandoned hand turned into a finger gun. He grinned cheekily. “Helping out a sexy lady like the total hot cake I am, duh. Would totes eat bricks and brimstone if Director asked me to. What are you doing here?” 

Talking to Miyoshi was, just like last time, utterly impossible. While Sakyo understood most of the words that came from his mouth, it was difficult understanding the sentence’s meaning. 

“Sakyo? Sakyo’s here?” 

A blue head popped out. Sweat gleamed on his forehead but he looked much more composed compared to the other two. Hellfire, Sakyo knew this one as well. 

“ _YOU?_ ” Sakyo blustered. 

Misumi gave him a toothy smile. “Sakyo! Do you have any more cookies right now?” 

“Oh, right… they mentioned something about being arrested by you, now that I think about it,” Izumi said. “Well, no introductions needed then, I guess?” 

He grabbed her by the arm before she could scurry off to get food ready. 

“Miss Tachibana, these two are _delinquents_ ,” he hissed. “The Minagi boy is a nuisance but relatively well-behaved, but _them?_ I’m not sure what lies they’ve spun to gain your trust but I would heavily advise against letting them run amok inside these walls.” 

She slapped the back of her hand on his chest, silencing him. “Enough. They’re not delinquents, they’re boys. Boys who have been very sweet about helping me renovate a room, so be nice to them.” 

Sakyo's headache thundered. He had to wonder how many tickets he would have already written up for Mankai if Izumi Tachibana hadn’t been the one to be running things. There was still a part of him that wanted this hellish pit closed for good. 

Izumi straightened. “Alright, now that that’s settled. Who wants lunch?” 

“I do!” Misumi cried, bounding up to her. “Lots, please! What’s on the menu?” 

“Curry!” 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tsuzuru muttered into the floorboards. “ _Fuck you._ ” 

“LANGUAGE." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thus, tenma will arrive soon...!
> 
> thank you for reading!


	9. Target Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenma joins the coven

“What are the Sumeragis like?” Izumi asked Tsuzuru as they got off the train and started heading for the manor. 

She’d sent them a formal letter requesting tutelage only to have been replied to with pretty stationery inviting them to the house. Unsure of what to expect, Izumi had decided to force Tsuzuru to come along with her. _He_ came from a reputable, solid name Bloodline background. She did not. 

Tsuzuru shrugged. “They’re pretty chill. Keep to themselves. Have a lot of pride in their namesake. Our families know each other but we’re not that close. We both absolutely hate the Council if that’s anything. If you want their help, I recommend you really go on and on about how the alternative is Sakuya failing his quest and his teaching falling under Reni’s rule.” 

She smacked his arm. “Sakuya will _not_ fail his test. And _I’m_ his teacher, we’re looking for help with Masumi’s education right now.” 

“Yeah, but they don’t need to know that,” he shot back. “You want their help or not? You just need to bend the truth a little bit.” 

Izumi winced. “Isn’t that a little underhanded though?” 

They rounded the corner and came face to face with the massive homestead made of white brick and marble. 

“Hm,” Izumi said after a moment of just looking at it. “Suddenly I’m not that opposed to lying to them.” 

“They’re a little on the garish side,” Tsuzuru admitted. “That much you deserve to know.” 

She took a step closer and quivered as magic energy nearly over flooded her. “Holy _crap,_ what do they keep in that place?” 

“No one knows except the Sumeragis. And I know that the head of the house would rather lose an arm and a leg than give up all their secrets to the Council.” 

“I’ve heard about some Bloodlines being wealthy but _this_ is just…” She suddenly whipped her head towards Tsuzuru. “Oh my god, you’re not going to suddenly tell me you’re the heir to a major fortune?” 

“No, the Minagis are shockingly poor,” he said flatly. 

Izumi choked. “I’m—“ 

Tsuzuru scowled. “My parents chose to have ten goddamn kids in this nightmare of an economy, you think we have any money left after food and tuition? Sure we might have been decently rich at some point but _ten kids_. My younger siblings are blessings on this earth and I love every one of them but I’m putting a cap on three kids maximum for myself in the future.” 

They stopped at the tall gates and Izumi rang the buzzer. 

The intercom buzzed to life. “ _Who is it?_ ” 

“I’m Izumi Tachibana from the Mankai Coven. I sent you a letter requesting possible aid with Hunter magic?” she said into it. 

“ _Oh, come right in! The door’s open_.” 

The ironclad gates moaned as they started opening at the hinges of their own accord. Izumi couldn’t tell if it was by magic or by design but either way she disliked it. The dislike stemmed from jealousy, that much she could admit to herself, but if anyone else asked she would claim it was simply due to having “taste.” 

The walk from the gates to the two massive wooden front doors was almost tiring. 

“You know what, if they don’t help us out, let’s just rob them,” Izumi said suddenly before they walked up the steps. 

Tsuzuru immediately held out his hand for a low high-five. “Done. Absolutely. No questions asked.” 

Izumi opened the front door and pulled a face at the gorgeous foyer of cream walls and marble tile. There was a grand staircase, which someone was descending slowly like they did in soap operas and music videos. 

“Oh, please pardon the mess. We haven’t had a chance to tidy it just yet,” she apologized emptily, because everyone standing there knew damn well that the foyer was spotless and that they could eat off the floor without a care in the world. 

Madame Sumeragi was a beautiful woman with curls of fiery orange and red piled high on top of her head, held there by a string of pearls. Her billowing dress, hugged tight to her body, was shining blue silk. Izumi knew traditional Bloodlines were the type to dress up for any and all occasions, but she herself would wear a pair of sweats three days in a row so it was a shock to behold. 

“Nice to meet you, Miss Tachibana,” Madame said warmly, holding out a hand with a bent wrist. 

Izumi hesitated but took the hand and shook it. Was she supposed to kiss the knuckles? Ah, whatever. 

“Thank you for letting me speak to you,” she said, and then gestured to Tsuzuru. “This is—“ 

“Tsuzuru Minagi! Oh, it’s been simply _ages_ since your parents and I have had a talk, you simply must tell them to clear up their schedule soon.” The Madame cupped Tsuzuru’s face in her hands and pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. “My, you were barely up to my waist the last time I’ve seen you. What grade are you in now, remind me?” 

“First year at university, Madame,” Tsuzuru said politely. 

“ _University?_ How time flies.” She pressed a palm to her cheek as smooth as glass. “I must look like a hag to you by now.” 

Tsuzuru chuckled. “Madame, you’re not giving yourself enough kindness. Time flies for the rest of us, not a breathtaking legend like you.” 

Izumi fought down the urge to stick a finger in her mouth and feign gagging. He was laying it on a little thick, wasn’t he? 

“Why don’t you go and help yourself to the kitchen while Miss Tachibana and I have a girls’ only chat?” Madame Sumeragi said with a wink as she rested her hand on Izumi’s back and gently started steering her to another room. “We won’t be long, I promise.” 

“Where are we going?” Izumi asked as her voice squeaked. 

“Oh, just the lounge. It’s where we keep our bar.” 

They had a _bar_ in here? Was Madame Sumeragi single? Izumi had always promised herself she wouldn’t marry for money but… 

The lounge was lit dimly with soft purple mood-lighting. Dark wood and plush velvet comprised most of the aesthetic. She took a seat at the counter as Madame Sumeragi went behind it to fetch two glasses. 

“I could scarcely believe it when I heard the Mankai Coven would be opening again,” the Madame said as she began pouring from a little bottle of clear liquor. Vodka? It wasn’t even the afternoon yet. “It gives me a little hope for the future, if I’m allowed to be honest.” 

“Hope?” Izumi asked. 

“Magic is a dying craft. Less Firstborns come out of the woodworks nowadays, less Bloodline names appear on the Purple Pages every few years… it’s a sad truth but a truth nevertheless. A Coven is always a light that welcomes in a new era.” Madame Sumeragi speared two olives with toothpicks. "The Sumeragis are not one to teach outside of our last names but I’d rather die than hand over any magician to Reni." 

“I hope you don’t think I’m being rude,” Izumi spoke up, “but can I ask why you seem to hate the Council so much?” 

Madame Sumeragi trilled loudly with a borderline hysterical laugh. 

“Sweetheart, any man can put on a crown and claim he rules the world, but it’s all just a fantasy for him to live,” she said, wiping her eyes. “The power in this city has always belonged to the Bloodlines and that will never change. It’s a little rude of them to walk around thinking otherwise, don’t you think?” 

Ah, there it was. Unflinching pride in familial heritage. Izumi accepted the little martini glass handed to her even though she disliked olives in her drinks. 

Madame Sumeragi clinked their glasses together in a small cheers. “Remember this, young lady. No matter how stodgy the officials get, no matter how high they may hold their chins. They are nothing but nuisances. _We_ are the real threats." 

And the two women drank to that. 

Madame Sumeragi put the glass down on the counter. “Miss Tachibana, we have a sixteen-year-old son who we’ve been teaching since he could just about teeter around on his adorable little toddler legs. It would do him some good to get out and bear the responsibility of teaching another.” 

“Really? Oh, that’s such a relief, thank you so much."

“Mmmm, yes. In return, would you be willing to house him in the Coven for the next few months?” Madame asked pleasantly. 

Izumi raised her eyebrows. “That—that would be fine, yes. I’d have to get some paperwork from you but if that’s what you would prefer.” 

Madame Sumeragi winked. “My husband and I have been _desperately_ looking forward to a European vacation for a while now. It’s why I wanted to meet you first. You seem like a capable young woman we could trust Tenma with.” 

Things were going very quickly, but Izumi let herself have a moment to feel disappointed that Madame Sumeragi was, in fact, not single and that she could not marry the woman into the upper echelons. Then she decided to let herself be a little horrified at the fact that this woman seemed completely fine with entrusting her young son to Izumi who had, at this point, yet to still show any legitimate credentials. 

“I’m honored,” she settled to say very slowly. “If that’s what, uh, Tenma would be comfortable with, then I see no harm in it.” 

“Excellent!” Madame Sumeragi cried. “We already had him pack, just fax me the paperwork when you get the chance. Come, I’ll call him to the foyer." 

…Suddenly, Izumi realized that she was, in fact, very not fond of Madame Sumeragi. 

She found Tsuzuru standing back at the foyer eating from a giant box of chocolate truffles. 

“Are you kidding me,” she hissed. 

“ _They offer every person a box of these things when you leave the kitchen,_ ” he whispered back. 

“Tsuzuru, they can’t buy your trust with candy. How cheap are you?” 

“I got you a box too.” 

She grabbed him by his elbow. “I don’t say this often enough, but I really love you sometimes.” 

“I know.” 

“Tenma!” Madame Sumeragi called pleasantly. “It’s time.” 

From the second floor, a boy appeared holding the handle of a large suitcase. He had the exact same hair as Madame Sumeragi did, only shorn short. 

“Are you from the Coven?” he asked in a very no-nonsense way as he descended. 

“I’m Izumi Tachibana,” she said, holding out her hand. “And you’re Tenma, I assume?” 

He shrugged. “Yeah.” 

Madame Sumeragi clicked her tongue. “Tenma, what have we said about introductions?” 

He grimaced and finally shook the offered hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Tenma Sumeragi, next in line to take up the Sumeragi mantle. Sixthborn Hunter.” 

Madame handed Izumi a card. “That has both my and his father’s cell numbers and e-mail addresses. If we don’t respond, try the emergency contact. It should go straight to our secretary.” 

Madame gave her a son a pat on the head. “Don’t cause trouble for them.” 

“I won’t,” Tenma snapped, shrugging her hand off. He held his head up and carried the suitcase out the door. “Let’s get going already.” 

Tsuzuru and Izumi exchanged troubled looks. 

Madame Sumeragi handed Izumi a little golden card next. She winked. “Just use this if you ever need a little bonus. Nothing’s too good for my darling little sunflower.” 

Yeah, nothing was too good except for maybe her damn attention, Izumi thought sourly as she looked at the credit card. She slipped it into a pocket, promising herself then and there she would never use it. “Thank you, Madame. It won’t be necessary.” 

And, because she really disliked the Sumeragi Manor, she turned and followed Tenma, dragging Tsuzuru along with her before he could sell his soul _again_ for a new box of chocolates.

* * *

Tenma was quiet on the train ride back to the Coven. He answered any question asked, but in short and gruff phrases. 

“Will you be able to continue going to school? The dorms are s a little ways from your home after all.” 

“’S fine, my driver’s going to pick me up every morning,” he muttered. 

Tsuzuru snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“Do you have a problem with me?” Tenma snapped. 

“Just laughing a little at the wealth disparity,” the Caster said back with false pleasantries. 

Izumi clapped her hands. “Hey, how about everyone cools it a little? Hm?” 

“Tsk. Whatever,” Tenma said, looking away. 

And that was that until they got to the Coven. 

“I’m stuffed so I’m gonna go take a nap,” Tsuzuru said immediately upon taking his shoes off. 

Izumi almost laughed. “How much food did you eat at their house?” 

He genuinely looked disappointed as he said, “not enough” and disappeared into his lab rather than his bedroom. 

“Come with me,” she said to Tenma, walking down the dorm hall. “We’ll drop your suitcase off and head to the practice room. You can get settled in after dinner, how does that sound?” 

Tenma was quiet as he followed her. “Is this the whole dormitory?” 

“Yes, why?” 

He surveyed his room and frowned deeply. “It’s small.” 

Izumi felt like someone had just stabbed her in the ribs. Rich people were a plague on society. 

“Well, you’re just going to have to make do with it!” Izumi said with cheer she didn’t feel. “Come on, let me show you to the practice room. It’s at least a little impressive, Tsuzuru and his friend Runed it all on their own.” 

Tenma let out a low whistle when she proudly opened the door to show off the giant chamber. It had gone from being just a storage area to a full gymnasium sized monstrosity. It was fairly empty save for a few targets on the ground that Matsukawa had dug up.

“Dimension manipulation? Is that even possible?” he asked, running his hands across the wall to try and feel the magic energy. 

“Something like that, I’m sure Tsuzuru would love to sell it off to your parents if they’d asked,” she said with a chuckle. 

Someone was right behind her. “…You’re back. I missed you. Welcome home.” 

Izumi winced. That could only be one person, right? 

Masumi shouldered past her to stand between her and Tenma. “Who’re you.” 

“Who’re _you_ ,” Tenma asked back. 

Oh, this was not starting off as happily as she’d hoped it would. 

“Tenma, this is Masumi, our resident Hunter-in-learning,” Izumi said brightly, forcing both boys to shake hands. “Masumi, this is Tenma. He comes from a very well established Hunter family. You guys will be spending a lot of time together so I hope you get along!” 

Tenma snatched his hand back after shaking just twice. “So… you don’t really know much about how Hunter magic works?” 

“No,” Masumi said bluntly. 

They stared at each other in silence. 

“…You don’t talk much, do you?” 

Masumi shrugged. 

“Alright.” Tenma raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I can figure something out. Miss Tachibana, you’re a Witch, right?” 

She winced. “Call me Director, Tenma. Seriously, I’m never going to get used to the whole ‘Miss’ thing for as long as I live.” 

“Director? The hell’s that?” 

She shrugged. “Sakuya calls me it and everyone just kind of went with it. He’s another student here.” 

Tenma blinked like he was trying to wrap his head around that. “Sure, I guess. That’s fine. Can you enchant these for us?” 

He nudged a target with his shoe. 

“Uh…” She smiled apologetically. “That might be a little out of my park.” 

“What? You’re a _Witch_.” 

“I’m a Fourthborn and as close to magic-less as I can get, but…” Izumi took two steps out of the room and looked down the hell both ways. Someone seemed to be relaxing in the living room without much to do. “Misumi! Can you come in here and help us, please?” 

“Okay!” He vaulted off the back of the couch and scampered towards them. “What can I do?” 

“You know how to enchant things with basic levitation?” 

“Maybe!” 

Tenma took a step forward with an odd expression on his face. “Hey… do I know you?” 

“You might, but I don’t know you!” Misumi said cheerfully and held his hands out. “I’m Misumi.” 

Tenma hesitated but shook the hands offered to him. “Uh. Right. You look _so_ familiar though.” 

“This rascal’s gotten himself into a lot of trouble until he came to live here,” Izumi said, ruffling Misumi's hair. “Sakyo thinks you’re a delinquent, you know that? But you’re really just a complete sweetheart, aren’t you.” 

Misumi luxuriated in the affection. “I like Sakyo, you should invite him to have lunch with us again. But only let him come inside if he brings snacks!” 

“What’s your last name?” Tenma asked, interrupting them. “I’ve seriously seen you before, I know I have." 

“I dunno it!” Misumi crouched on the floor and stared at the scattered targets. “You want me to make these float around and stuff?” 

“That’s the idea, kiddo.” 

Tenma frowned deeply. “I feel like I _know_ you—“ 

“Tenma.” 

He glanced up at the Director who was smiling faintly. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. 

“Misumi’s a part of Mankai Coven and is currently learning more about how to control his own magic,” she said quietly. “And until he wants to know more about himself beyond that, then he doesn’t have to. Alright?” 

He hesitated. “But…” 

“The Coven’s his home for as long as he’d like it to be. Same to you. Same to Sakuya. Same to any magician that needs it.” 

Tenma raised his hands. “Fine, fine. Not like I’m _that_ curious about it.” 

Misumi snapped his fingers and the targets started sparking like mad with little bolts of blue energy. But rather than float, they all… 

“Misumi, why?” Izumi asked flatly as she picked up a triangular target. 

“They look better that way!” 

She sighed. “It’s not what I asked you to do though.” 

“I’m sorryyyyy.” 

“Can you call Tsuzuru in then?” 

Misumi grinned. “He’s totally sleeping!” 

Of course he was. He always seemed to be asleep whenever she needed his help. Izumi suddenly got an idea. She turned around and gave a swift, hard kick to the wall. 

“Jesus!” Tenma yelped. “It’s not that big of a deal, you don’t have to get mad about it!” 

“No, no, I just. Remembered that Kazunari buffed these walls up.” She crouched to check the wall and found not even a single scuff from her foot. And Izumi put a decent amount of pride into her kicks. “Okay, Misumi, can you call Sakuya in?” 

“Okay!” 

Izumi really hoped this didn’t go badly. 

“Director, you called for me?” Sakuya asked as he poked his head in. He paused a bit at the newcomer. “Uh… who’s this?” 

“This is Tenma, he’ll be staying with us for a while." Izumi grinned. “How’d you like to practice a risky little bit of magic?” 

His eyes sparkled.

* * *

Itaru typed a quick _AFK_ into the chat before rising from his chair. He hoped the kitchen had some more Doritos. He hadn’t expected them to be so delightful but the little chips pleased him greatly. 

Rather than Doritos, unfortunately, what instead greeted him in the hall were five people all just standing there. 

Izumi had her back pressed against a door, whispering, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” under her breath. 

“I’m sorry!” Sakuya cried, panicking. “I didn’t mean to, I promise!” 

Itaru groaned and snapped his fingers to nab their attention. “Do I even want to know?” 

“IS THAT A DEMON?” a new, orange little boy Itaru didn’t recognized screamed. “IS THAT AN _ACTUAL DEMON_ —“ 

“Misumi, ten foot rule,” the Director snapped. 

His summoner saluted. “Okay, bye! Good luck with the targets!” Before he began cartwheeling down the hall back to the living room. 

Itaru pursed his lips. “Targets?” 

“WHY DO YOU HAVE A _DEMON_ HERE?” The little brat snapped before unstrapping a knife from seemingly nowhere. “Get back, I’ll take him!" 

Sakuya leapt in front of Itaru. “No, you can’t kill Itaru! He’s our friend." 

“YOUR FR—HE IS A _DEMON,_ ARE YOU MAD? IS EVERYONE IN THIS COVEN INSANE?” 

Tsuzuru flung the door to his lab open. 

“ _SHUT UP,_ ” the exhausted man screamed at the top of his lungs. 

Everyone went quiet. He slammed it shut. 

Itaru on any other day of the week would have loved to smash this insolent little mortal Hunter into the ground but the next raid was in about three minutes. He had no time. 

“What’s in the room?” he asked Izumi who was trying to give a very quick explanation as to why they had a demon living in the Coven and why it was ‘totally fine, please don’t tell the Council.’ 

“I asked Sakuya to enchant a few of the targets and it didn’t go well,” she blurted out. 

Itaru suddenly realized this was a very good chance to wheedle money out of the Director. He cracked his knuckles and let hellfire flood through his veins. “If I deal with them, will you buy me something?” 

“…What.” 

“I would like an offering of a substance called Red Bull. It’s been strongly recommended to me by a couple of people who play on my server.” 

She looked confused. “ _Red Bull?_ Whatever, done. If you can fix this mess, it’s yours.” 

“Stand aside, halfblood.” 

The Director slowly did as she was commanded to and Itaru opened the door to the practice room. 

A triangular target hurtled into the opposite wall with a CRASH and shook the room to its very foundation. There were 20 more just like it, crashing here and there and against each other like enraged cannonballs. 

He closed the door. 

“Nope,” Itaru said and chose to just go get his Doritos. 

“COWARD!” Izumi cried. 

He waved over his shoulder. “I merely pick and choose my battles.” 

Izumi put her back to the door again to pray it didn’t burst open and slowly slid down. She buried her face in her hands. The practice room had been finished _yesterday_ and already it was out of use? That was just her luck. 

Masumi crouched down beside her, peering at her quietly. “Do you want me to fix it?” 

“No, everything’s okay," she said after a moment’s pause, forcing herself to smile. “I’m just a little frustrated. Don’t worry, Masumi, we’ll get the room fixed in no time. I just need a bit to think.” 

“I can fix it for you, if you want me to,” he said and leaned closer. “I’ll do anything you want.” 

“What I _want_ ,” she said firmly, standing up and giving him a firm part on the head, “is for you to stay away from this room and keep safe. Got it?” 

Itaru came back looking upset. “Are we out of Doritos? This is so disrespectful.” 

“I’m going to beat the ever loving crap out of you,” Izumi spat at him. She got off the ground. “Tenma, would you be alright with going through the first lesson in the courtyard? I’m really sorry about this, I’ll get the practice room sorted out by tomorrow latest.” 

He shrugged. “I’m fine with wherever as long as it's a wide open space.” 

“Great. Masumi, will you take him?” 

The boy made a face. “But I want you to teach me.” 

“Kiddo, I know almost nothing about Hunter magic. You’re gonna need Tenma’s pearls of wisdom more than mine.” 

“Don’t care. I want you.” 

Tenma flushed red, but Izumi couldn’t tell whether it was from second-hand embarrassment or anger. “Dude, what is your deal? Why is everyone in this Coven so freaking _weird?_ ” 

“We have a lot of fun here though,” Sakuya promised. “Can I come with? I wanna know what Hunter magic is like.” 

“Nope,” Izumi said firmly. “You and I are going over meditation _again_.” 

Sakuya made a face. “But meditation’s so boring.” 

“Meditation until you learn how to get your magic under control, kiddo.” She knocked a knuckle on the door. “We still have a long ways to go, it seems." 

Sakuya sighed. “Fine."

* * *

And so, after much urging from the Director, Masumi finally showed Tenma to the courtyard. It was relatively empty save for a boy who was lying on the grass, watching the clouds overhead. 

“Move it,” Masumi said bluntly. 

Muku shot up. “I’m sorry! Am I bothering you?” 

Masumi shrugged. “Practice.” 

His eyes flickered towards Tenma. 

“Oh my goodness! You’re so beautiful!” Muku gasped, covering his mouth with his hand. He got up quickly. 

Tenma went _redder_. “Hah?” 

“I’ve never seen such a vibrant aura!” Muku leaned in close. “It’s like, you’re like a campfire! Or the sun! Oh, this is so exciting, I have to go tell Mister Citron I can see souls now!” 

And then he went running off, calling for this Citron guy at the top of his lungs. 

Tenma watched him go and turned to Masumi. “The hell was that?” 

Masumi shrugged. 

Tenma shuddered. Mankai Coven was so, so weird. “Whatever. How much do you know about Hunter magic?” 

“I can stab things,” Masumi said in utter monotone. 

“And?” 

Masumi shrugged again.

“Well, that’s a big yikes.” Tenma sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Okay. At its base, Hunters are weapons. Your entire body is built for combat. We heal faster than normal, our physical capabilities are fed more by our magic energy than biological. You following?” 

Masumi nodded once, looking utterly bored.

“…Alright.” He walked towards a tree, jumping. His fingers just barely scraped the end of the bottom most branch. “You see how I can’t reach it?” 

“Yeah.” Masumi shuffled his feet. “Am I supposed to point and laugh at you?” 

“NO?” Tenma cracked his neck and let magic flood into his joints. He jumped up again, shooting into the air and landing on the branch with the balls of his feet. He grabbed onto the trunk to stabilize himself. “Hunter magic lets you do that.” 

Masumi stared at him. “…Climb trees?” 

“Dude, are you stupid?” Tenma jumped back down, letting magic break his fall. “You try it.” 

“I can just climb a tree the normal way.” 

“You’re missing the point by a mile.” 

Masumi suddenly jolted. “Wait. So we heal faster?” 

“Scrapes, bruises, some very light fractures, yes.” 

He furrowed his brow. “And magic lets us do physical things?” 

“Yes?” 

Masumi held out his hand. “Give me your knife.” 

“What? No!” 

“Gimme it.” 

Tenma took a step back. “What are you planning on doing?” 

Masumi cornered him against the tree. “I’m gonna fix the Director’s problem.”

* * *

Tsuzuru grabbed a can of spray cheese from the fridge and began filling his mouth. 

Izumi gagged from the table where she was digging through a textbook. “You are _disgusting_.” 

He swallowed after a moment. “It’s one of the few joys I can offer myself after a long nap. Hey, why’s there a Do Not Enter sign on the practice room?” 

She winced. “Uh… Sakuya had a small accident. I was planning on asking you for help with that tomorrow.” 

Tsuzuru sprayed another mouthful down. He paused, chewing on the processed spread. 

He swallowed again. “Masumi went in there.” 

Izumi dropped the textbook. “HE WHAT?" 

Citron looked up from where he and Muku sat in the living room, going through a deck of cards. “He seemed intent on fixing the problem.” 

“YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS?” she screeched, getting up and running. 

Citron chased after her. “Director, going inside is not a good—!” 

She threw the door open and let out a shrill scream as a target went hurtling right at her. Izumi threw herself to the ground. The target crashed into the wall behind her, digging into the wall, wiggling, and then shooting back out to continue its rampage towards the living room. 

“WHAT THE _FUCK,”_ Tsuzuru bellowed as it nearly beheaded him. He shot off a Rune towards it but it refused to slow down. 

Muku let out a yelp and immediately cowered behind the couch. 

Misumi popped his head out of his room. “What’s happening?” 

The target swerved towards him and he shot off a bolt of lightning from his palm, more on reflex than anything else. The target instantly burned to smithereens and fell to the ground. 

“Woooow. That was dangerous!” he said with a tilt to his head. 

“Director, please close the door,” Citron pleaded as he grabbed her around the waist and tried to force her back into the hallway. 

Izumi kept crawling forward. “MASUMI, YOU GET OUT OF THAT ROOM THIS INSTANT." 

“It’s okay, I can handle it,” the teen said simply as he dodged the targets this way and that. 

Masumi suddenly leapt into the air and grabbed the edge of one target as it went flying by him. He held on even as it started bucking wildly, going so far as to twist his body and crouch on the target’s face like it was some boogie board from hell. 

“Masumi, _get down from there!_ ” Izumi screamed. 

“I’m fine,” he only called back and removed Tenma's knife from his belt strap. He dug it into another target as it flew by him and jumped from the one he stood on to another before he crashed into a wall. 

“Wait, that looks really fun!” Misumi said as he ran in next. 

“ _MISUMI, NO!_ ” 

It was like speaking to a couple of brick walls. The Witch jumped onto another flying target and hung upside down by his knees, laughing gleefully as he flew this way and that. 

Citron forced her out, refusing to let go of her. “Director, perhaps it is best to leave this to them. They are more capable than you right now.” 

“They’re going to get themselves killed!” she shrieked, trying to shake him off. 

Citron smiled down at her. “Oh, only maybe.” 

“THAT DOESN’T MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?” 

Masumi slammed his elbow against a passing target and sent the splintering pieces to the ground. He chucked the knife and another one shattered. 

MIsumi giggled. “Is this a game?" 

He fired off another bolt of lightning towards a target, sending ashes cascading to the ground. 

“I’m going to kill BOTH of them when they get down,” she swore to herself, slapping hands over her eyes and praying that she wouldn’t hear the crunch of bone any time soon. 

But Masumi didn’t seem to be struggling too much, only taking a break every once in a while to wipe at the sweat that was gathering on his forehead. Soon the only flying targes were the one he and Misumi were on. He smashed his heel into his and went crashing towards the ground. 

“Masumi!” Izumi cried and gave Citron a firm jab to the ribs (that she would apologize for _later_ ) and rushed to his side. “Oh my god, oh my god, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.” 

Masumi sat up and rubbed his head. “‘M fine.” 

“Are you sure? No concussion?” 

“Nah." 

She started shaking him by the shoulders violently. “ARE YOU CRAZY? HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM THIS ROOM, _HOW MANY TIMES—“_

“Director, look!” Misumi yelled. He had a hand on his flying target and it seemed, through sheer overflowing of magic, he could somewhat control where it hurtled to. “It’s like I’m driving a car!” 

“No, that’s definitely not how you drive a car,” Tsuzuru remarked. 

Izumi covered her face and tried to relax but suddenly, all she could do was want to _cry_. 

“Director, they were going to be fine,” Citron said gently. 

“They could have gotten hurt!” she snapped, slapping his hand away as he reached down to pat her back. She turned back to Masumi, wishing she could shake sense into him. “Why would you do that! WHY!” 

“Because I wanted to make you happy,” he said bluntly. “I fixed your problem for you.” 

Izumi’s stomach was sinking deeper and deeper towards the ground in despair. “That wasn’t your problem to fix! You are a _child_ , Masumi, you could have gotten hurt. Do you have any idea how much trouble I would have been in if you’d gotten injured doing this?” 

Masumi cocked his head to the side. “Not much. My parents wouldn’t care.” 

“I…” She realized her hands were cold. She looked over her shoulder, where Tsuzuru and Citron were _staring_ at them. 

This wasn’t a talk to have in front of them she realized. 

Izumi got to her feet and grabbed Masumi by his sleeve, forcing him up beside her. 

“My office, now,” she said tersely. “I’ll see you there in a minute while I figure out your punishment.”

Misumi looked honest to god confused by her ire but did as she asked.

“Director, that’s going too far. He _did_ fix your problem,” Tsuzuru said quietly once the youth left.

“Perhaps punishment is not fair,” Citron added. 

Izumi felt like she was going to break from the frustration. “Are you—“ she lowered her voice, “ _fucking_ kidding me? Are both of you just that dumb? He is a BOY. Those things could have _killed_ him and he came in here against my orders, do you not understand how dangerous things were? AND YOU!” 

She pointed to Misumi. “GET DOWN FROM THERE!” 

He flinched and did as she commanded, setting the target on fire as he dropped to the ground. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly looking thoroughly admonished. “I thought it was fun.” 

“If I say no, then _never_ again, got it?” she snapped. “Go to your room, I’ll figure out how to deal with _you_ next.” 

Tsuzuru grabbed Misumi’s arm before he could run off. “Hold on, now you’re just being absolutely ridiculous. Misumi’s literally older than I am, he can do what he wants.” 

Izumi poked a finger to Tsuzuru’s chest. “If you put yourself in danger like that right in front of my eyes after I told you not to, I would have sent you packing back home.” 

“They’re _magicians_ , Director,” he said, not giving an inch. “You’re coddling them. You’ve _been_ coddling them. I didn’t think I’d have to point it out so soon but it’s true and you know it.” 

Misumi cleared his throat. “I, uh, I think I should go.” 

Tsuzuru let go of him. 

Citron smiled at Izumi like he was trying to calm her down. “The chances of them getting hurt were very minimal, Director, I swear it. Perhaps you are overreact—?” 

“DON’T,” she thundered, silencing him with a look. “I don’t care if the chance was one percent or half a percent or the most unlikely outcome. If they COULD have gotten hurt, then that’s what matters. Not the most likely outcome, Citron. They are children.” 

“Masumi’s sixteen and Misumi’s _nineteen_ ,” Tsuzuru said firmly. “They’re going to be facing bigger problems than a few targets and the more you try to spoil and spoon-feed them, the harder they’re going to be crushed by reality. You can’t protect them forever, Director. That’s not your role in the Coven.” 

Izumi took in a sharp breath, looking first at Tsuzuru and then Citron. 

“You think the same?” she asked. 

The Seer shrugged. “Well… I would say you are certainly more, ah, ghosted—“ 

“Spirited,” Tsuzuru interrupted. 

“Yes, that. Spirited about teaching than I am used to.” Citron chuckled dryly. “It is not a bad thing, Director, but you treat them too baby.” 

She pursed her lips into a line, fighting the wave of fury that washed over her. 

“I don’t want to see either of you right now,” she said hotly, pushing past them. “I’m going to my room. Tell Masumi I’ll deal with him later.” 

“You’re mad because I’m right,” Tsuzuru drawled with that absolute _shit eating smile_. 

“SHOVE IT,” Izumi yelled and slammed the door to her bedroom shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't write a word yesterday since I was too hungover oof. BUT I'm glad I managed to churn this chapter out at least by today!
> 
> a couple of notes on this chapter:
> 
> i've been waiting to write a little bit about Izumi's motherly attitude for a while now. How in certain situations it's good, but in others it can really conflict with her role as a teacher. 
> 
> FINALLY got to a part where I could write Masumi some more without cramming him in unnecessarily, thank lord
> 
> i promise i haven't forgotten about juza or banri, they'll show up soon but their roles aren't that important
> 
> thank you for reading! please await the next chapter. we're steadily getting to the really good bits i've been excited to write and share so expect either updates-a-day or very long chapters every other day!


	10. r/Necromancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banri tries to bring Juza back to life. It does not go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ATTENTION !!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> PLEASE NOTE THE NEWLY ASSIGNED ARCHIVE TAG FOR (Graphic Depictions of Violence)
> 
> IT APPLIES FOR THIS CHAPTER.

“Where are we going this time,” Juza asked as Banri dropped from his window. 

The living boy stretched and started strolling down the street. “Graveyard again.” 

“It didn’t work last time.” 

“I’ve been doing some research,” was all he replied. “We’re trying something new but it’s gotta be at the graveyard.” 

They walked alongside each other. Well, Banri walked. Juza had settled for doing that odd floating thing once more.

Banri rolled his eyes when the quiet stretched several minutes. “Are you just not going to ask what I’m carrying in the fuckin’ bucket?” 

Juza scowled. “What's the point? Your massive ego makes it impossible for you to not tell me.” 

“Fuck you! I’m not saying shit now, you asshole.” 

A few more steps. 

Banri relented. “Fine, I’ll tell you, but this doesn’t prove a thing.” 

Juza sneered. 

He took off the top of the bucket and showed the contents to the ghost. 

Juza stared at it. “What the fuck is that.” 

“Two goat livers.” 

“Oh.” 

Banri wanted to fucking kick him. “You can ask why.” 

Juza sighed. “Why.” 

“I found an article on Reddit. Said I could raise the dead if I did a magic circle bullshit with some goat liver.” Banri smacked the top back on and continued walking. “It took me all day to find a butcher shop that sold this shit. Did you know that it’s easier to find gunpowder in this city than goat meats?” 

“Gunpowder?” 

“Another part of the circle thing.” 

“Oh.” Juza frowned as they rounded the corner to the graveyard. “You don’t have to keep trying, you know. You can just drop it.” 

“Fuck you, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? To just _win_ because you’re a ghost now,” Banri snapped. “You can eat it, Hyodo. I’m bringing you back to life and kicking your ass whether you like it or not.” 

“Whatever.” 

They got to the graveyard and, as usual, Banri looked around to make sure no one was looking. Nine out of ten times, the graveyard was empty during this time of the day but you never knew. Sometimes there would be a goth kid sitting on a bench reading poetry to his slam group. But, luckily, the yard was clear of any people. Banri took out a spray can and began drawing what was more or less the picture he’d found online on the grass.

“Right. You stand in the middle now,” Banri ordered. 

Juza did as he was told and could only watch as Banri sprayed a large triangle inside of the first circle. He placed the goat livers on one corner, a small pile of gunpowder on another, and a whole head of garlic on the last. 

“I’m gonna be fuckin’ pissed off if this doesn’t work, gunpowder cost more than I wanted it to,” Banri muttered under his breath. 

Juza sat in the air, crossing his legs and bobbing up and down ever so slightly. “What now.” 

“Hold your fuckin’ horses.” Banri patted his pockets and took out a crumpled piece of paper. “Right. ‘M supposed to say a spell or some shit so just keep sitting there.” 

“This is so stupid.” 

“Shut up!” Banri cleared his throat and held a hand out. “Thank God I took Latin in middle school.” 

“They offered Latin at your school?” 

“It was either that or French.” 

Juza grunted and nodded his head. “That’s cool.” 

“ _Iubes me mortuorum priori. Est plus quam deus meus tuam_.” Banri paused and put the note back in his pocket. 

Juza glanced down at himself, feeling nothing. He got back to his feet. “What a waste of time.” 

“Cool your jets, I still need to do one thing.” Banri took out a switchblade from his pocket and raised it to his fingertip. 

Juza grabbed him (as best as ghosts could grab, which meant not at all, but he made the motion at least). “Settsu. No.” 

“What, you a pussy at blood or something?” He pricked his finger and squeezed out a drop of blood, shaking his hand until it splattered on the ground beneath them. Juza pulled a face. 

They stood there and, still, nothing happened. 

“Bummer,” Banri muttered and scratched his head. “Back to the drawing board then.” 

Juza swung his arm like he meant to smack his companion on the back of his head. “You’re getting weirder about this.” 

Banri leaned down to pick the goat livers back up (if he washed and cooked it, his parents probably wouldn’t be able to tell what it was, right? Or maybe he could just fling it at his sister as a prank) when something sprung from the ground and nabbed him around his sleeve. 

“The fuck?” He snatched his hand back, the _something_ coming up with it. “What is this?” 

Juza floated over and offered a palm that gave soft, silvery light. 

“…Huh.” Banri unlatched the skeletal hand from his sleeve and looked at it. “ _Huh_.” 

“Settsu. You fucked up.” Juza slowly started drifting back and away from the summoning circle and Banri followed after him, still unsure of what was going on. 

The ground started giving odd, scratching noises. Packed dirt and grass gave way as bony limbs smashed through the surface and began clawing, trying to tug something bigger out. 

“Oh my god,” Banri moaned, smacking himself in the forehead. “Let’s bounce. My parents are going to fuckin’ kill me if they found out I started a zombie apocalypse.” 

“We can’t _bounce,_ you started it,” Juza snapped. “Fix it.” 

“You think I know how to?” 

“What did the Reddit article say?” 

“ _You think I read the entire article?_ ” 

Banri and Juza backed away side by side until they could duck beneath a cluster of bushes. They watched seven, eight, nine re-animated corpses dig themselves back up and slowly get to their feet. Most of them were nothing but bone and ruined fabric, but a couple were still _rotting_. More and more seemed to be tearing at the earth to emerge. 

Banri let out a low whistle. “Hate to admit it but… that’s so fuckin’ dope, man." 

Juza didn’t say anything but had to somewhat agree. It was a scene right from the best horror movies.

The zombies were _walking_. More like lurching and just barely keeping themselves from collapse with each small step they took, but still they were walking. And, oddly enough, they seemed to be walking in a group towards… somewhere. Just all in the same direction. 

Banri stood up. “Let’s follow them.” 

“Are you crazy? No,” Juza spat. 

“Are _you_ crazy? Hold on, let’s think about that for a moment.” Banri clapped his hands together very firmly. “So you’re telling _me_ , that we just did an incantation I found on r/Necromancy which _worked._ We just saw dead motherfuckers crawl out of the dirt. And we’re just _not_ going to see where they’re going? Are you kidding me right now? Fuck off, we’re following them. If you wanna stay back, then whatever.” 

He dug his hands into his pockets and jauntily sauntered after the zombies as they continued their traipse. 

After a moment, Juza followed him, drifting close by. “You suck.” 

Banri grinned.

* * *

It was never, _ever_ good to wake up to someone screaming. 

Izumi shot awake and was out in the hallway before she could even process what was going on. As she tried to shake off the sleep that still clung to her mind, her movements were more from instinct than anything else. Someone was screaming in their room. 

She forced Muku’s door open to find the boy shaking, sitting up in his bed. 

“Zombies!” he screamed, choking on his own spit as he panicked. “ _Zombies!_ ” 

Izumi immediately turned his room’s lights on and kneeled by his bedside. “Kiddo, shh. Shhhhh. It’s fine. What happened?” 

“They’re coming!” Muku wailed and covered his face with his hands. “They’re coming to eat me!” 

“No, there aren’t any zombies,” Izumi said and reached forward to rub his back. “You had a bad dream. It’s okay.” 

Muku fell into her arms as he bawled. “Director, I _saw_ them, I saw them coming here, they’re going to kill us!” 

“Muku, it was a _nightmare_. You’re okay. Nothing’s eating us.” 

He wiped his face, still struggling to breathe properly. “I… But I—I saw. I saw them! Droves of them, piles, so m-many, I—!” 

“Sweetie, it was a bad dream. Nothing else. You’re safe.” She rubbed a couple more circles into his back and stood up. “C’mon. Let’s get you some warm milk in the kitchen to calm you down.” 

And then Citron was in the doorway which made everything so, so, so much worse. 

The Seer wiped away the beads of cold sweat on his forehead. He had a grave look on his face. “Ah. How unfortunate. You saw them as well? I’d been hoping it was just me." 

Muku dissolved back into hysterical sobs. “ _THEY’RE GOING TO KILL US!_ " 

“What do you mean _you_ had the same dream?” Izumi hissed. 

Citron winced. “Director…” 

“ _Zombies?_ ” 

“I am not sure if I know that word. Dead bodies that walk?” 

“ _ZOMBIES?_ ” 

“Then yes. I am afraid zombies.” 

Izumi sharply inhaled through her nose. “Oh. I see. That sure is… something to deal with.” 

She glanced at Muku who was rocking back and forth on the bed with his head between his knees. 

“Hey,” Izumi said as she ruffled his hair. “Everything’s going to be just fine. This changes nothing. You’re still safe. Can I leave you here on your own for a bit while I go take care of some matters?” 

“I’ll watch over him,” Citron said, taking her place by the bedside. “It was an alarming vision, Director. Give him a moment to collect himself.” 

“Alright, I’ll trust him with you, Citron.” She tied her hair up in an elastic. “How much time do we have?” 

“I would say ten minutes. Perhaps a little less.” 

“Suppose we don’t need anymore than five.” Izumi pulled out her phone and walked out into the hall. She pressed a number and held the receiver to her ear, simultaneously kicking Tsuzuru’s door open. 

As expected, he was passed out on the lab table with a notebook out, hand by a page half-filled with notes. 

She shook him awake. 

“Wuzz—?” Tsuzuru took one look at her and slapped a hand over his eyebrows. “You didn’t.” 

“I didn’t,” she reassured him. “We have bigger problems than your facial hair right now.” 

“…Which is?” 

The phone picked up. 

“ _…Miss Tachibana? With all due respect, do you have any idea what time it is?_ ” 

“Zombies, Sakyo,” she said. 

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Tsuzuru and Sakyo said in unison. 

“Citron and Muku both saw them coming this way. We don’t know anything else besides that. They said we have about ten minutes but I’d peg it for less if I know our luck. We’re going to need reinforcements by the Coven as soon as possible, we’ll hold them off as best as we can until you get here.” 

“We’re going to what?” Tsuzuru asked. 

Izumi snapped her fingers in front of his face. “ _Please_ wake up, I don’t have enough time to explain it to the both of you.” 

“ _I’m on my way. Do you need me to be on the line should anything happen?_ ” 

“No, I think that’ll just complicate things. Please get here as fast as possible.” 

“ _Twenty minutes._ ” 

Izumi winced. “I’ll see what we can do.” 

She hung up the call and stared at the Caster who was pinching himself on his arm. 

“So... not a dream?” he asked her, giving his arm one more firm pinch. 

Izumi laughed mirthlessly. “I wish it was. How long will it take you to Barrier the whole property?” 

Tsuzuru blanched, getting off his chair and nearly falling over until she caught and steadied him. “I’ll need Misumi and Sakuya’s help but probably less than five minutes.” 

“Good. Go get started outside, I’ll send them your way.” 

He was already heading out the door. 

There wasn’t _time_ for hesitation or thinking things over, not if Citron said there wasn’t. Izumi threw open Misumi’s door and tugged his blanket off. 

“Mmm… sleepy,” he whined, rolling over and curling up. 

She shook his arm. “Misumi, we need you right now.” 

He sat up and wiped his eyes. “Whyyyyy?” 

“Zombies. Go outside, Tsuzuru will explain. You know the barrier Rune?” 

“Zombies? Tsuzuru? No, I don’t.” Misumi frowned and his arm dropped. “Director, is everything okay?” 

She gave a very large but empty smile. “It will be if you just do what I need you to do! I’m sure you’ll pick up what Tsuzuru’s doing, you’re a quick learner. Think you can do that for me, Misumi?” 

“I’ll try!" He hopped out of bed and headed for the entryway. 

Sakuya next. 

“What’s going on?” Tenma snapped as he opened his own door. “Can I not even _sleep_ in this nightmare of a Coven?” 

“Zombies,” she said simply. 

“WHAT?” 

“Don’t know much more than that, sorry, kiddo. You might want to just hole up in your dorm, everything will be fine.” She hoped. She opened Sakuya’s door and flicked his lights on. 

Her charge moaned at the sudden intrusion. “What…? What time is it?” 

“A little past three in the morning. We need you outside now to Barrier the property.” 

“H-Huh?” 

Izumi gently helped him out of bed and pushed him towards his door. “Zombies.” 

“ _Zombies?_ ” 

“Just about.” 

Sakuya rubbed his eyes. “Alright, I guess. Sure. I guess… panic later?” 

“ _Please_.” 

“Right. Later.” She almost wept when Sakuya started running to the door. Thank God most of them were light sleepers. 

What next, _what next._ There was more she could do. Ah, right. Demon in the building. 

She kicked down Itaru’s room to see him on the computer. Headphones snug over his head with the volume set so loudly, she could hear the bloodshed and violence from where she stood. Izumi tugged them off. 

“DO YOU MIND?” the demon bellowed, not looking up from his computer. “I’M TRYING TO RANK FOR THIS ROUND.” 

“Zombies.” 

“Zom—?” He glanced at her and then turned his attention back to the screen. “Did you have a nightmare?” 

Izumi leaned over and pressed the Power Off button on his computer. The monitor went black and a hand lashed out. Itaru grabbed her by the hair, smashing her head against the wall. 

“ _You shouldn’t have done that,_ ” he growled. “Haven’t we discussed the matter of respect before, halfblood?" 

It was probably the hysteria and adrenaline that made her feel numb, Izumi thought to herself, but she’d definitely have a headache from the blow later. She glared at him, refusing to let the glowing pink eyes scare her. 

“Protect this Coven,” she said simply. “As long as nobody gets hurt and you help ensure that, I’ll give you anything you want in return.” 

Itaru showed his teeth in an unkind smile. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to make promises with a demon?” 

“You want my soul?” Izumi snapped. “Have it. I don’t care. Take anything from me that you want. I just need the kids to be safe.” 

His smile disappeared. They merely stared at each other for a moment. 

He let go of her and licked the tip of a fang. 

“Why do you care so much for them,” Itaru asked quietly. “They are not your kin." 

Izumi grabbed him by the front of his cloak and brought him in close. “I’m not here for you to probe my priorities, demon. Will you help or not? I don’t have time.” 

He pursed his lips. “Red Bull?” 

“Done.” 

Itaru sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Not even a moment’s peace with you lot, I swear it.” 

He pushed aside the curtains and opened the window to his room before jumping out. 

Izumi went into Masumi’s room next. He slept bundled in all of those blankets as usual, peaceful and completely oblivious to the world around him. Good. She traced the Barrier rune on his window. Her magic wasn’t strong and it probably wouldn’t hold for more than a few seconds under pressure but sometimes a few seconds could save a life. 

“Can I please know what’s actually going on?” someone from the doorway asked. 

She turned around to see Tenma there, brow furrowed and arms crossed. 

“How good of a Hunter are you, actually?” she asked. 

“What?” 

“How good, Tenma.” 

He flushed. “One of the damn best in this city, that’s how good.” 

“Fantastic. You have any weapons on you besides that knife?” 

Tenma stared at her before holding his palm out. The air right above it shimmered before the hilt of a sword appeared. She watched him grab it and give the hilt a few practice swings until the blade erupted forth, a shining and luminous thing. 

Izumi nodded once. “Stay in here. Hopefully, nothing happens, but if it does… Keep him safe, alright? Muku, too, I’m sending him in here next.” 

“You can trust me,” Tenma said seriously, perhaps finally getting a feel for how dire the situation was. “But I’d better know what the hell’s going on afterwards.” 

“I hope we all do, kiddo,” Izumi muttered and hurried past him. She pushed open Muku’s door. Citron looked at her. “Get him inside Masumi’s room and then you come with me.” 

Citron got up from his knees and helped ease his apprentice out of his bed. Muku let out another choked sob but at the very least looked more coherent than he had a few moments ago. 

“What will we do?” Citron asked her as they passed by. 

“Make sure nobody gets hurt.” 

Once Muku was in, Izumi closed the door and Runed it just like she had the window. She and Citron exchanged one look before hurrying outside. She grabbed Tsuzuru’s knife from her desk before they left the dorm building. 

“Everything going alright?” she asked as the cold night air hit her face. 

Tsuzuru wiped his brow and got up from where he’d been inscribing a Rune onto the driveway. “Just about. Fifteen points of Barrier around the perimeter, most if not all reinforced by now. Not like Sakuya’s Barriers need much reinforcement but… yeah.” 

She glanced at the Seer behind her. “How much time have we got?” 

“Two minutes.” 

“ _Motherfucker_.” Izumi took in a deep breath and calmed herself down. This wasn’t a time to be swept by emotions, she had to keep a clear head. “Where’s Sakuya and Misumi?” 

“Going ‘round the border one more time with Silencers. Thought it’d be best to keep the noise down no matter what happens. You know… just incase neighbors wake up and get a little nosy." 

“They’re on their way,” someone called from overhead. 

Izumi looked up to see Itaru circling the building with bat-like wings. Of course he could fly, just another thing for him to rub in later. 

“How far?” Izumi asked. 

“Coming around the corner.” 

“How many?” 

Even from there she could see Itaru’s nostrils flare with annoyance. “Nasty amount.” 

Fuck. _Fuck_. 

“Tsuzuru, we’re done,” Sakuya panted as he ran towards them. “Director, are we going to be okay?” 

“Yes,” she said immediately, refusing to look at Citron and check if her prediction had any backing to it. “We’ll just have to wait and see how well the Barriers hold up.” 

The _sound_ of it reached their ears before the actual appearances of the zombies did. Soft and eerie growls that were almost human but not quite. A cacophony of flesh slapping on asphalt that _didn’t sound right_. The click-clack of bones. 

Izumi couldn’t help herself. She covered Sakuya’s eyes with her hands. 

“Director, I want to see,” he whispered, trying to force them off. 

She gripped his head tighter. “Just… Just wait.” 

The first one came into view. An ugly, decrepit carcass that dragged itself forward. Empty sockets and a slack jaw that showed off a glistening, rancid slab of meat that remained of a tongue. 

Collectively, the entire group of magicians drew back a step. 

It paused at the Barrier as though it’d walked into a glass wall. Just for a moment though, before lunging towards them again. The Barrier sparked in defiance. 

“How long will it hold?” Misumi asked meekly. 

A crowd of the cadavers gathered at the Barrier, all slamming their heads against the Rune wall and hissing in displeasure as they were stopped in their paths. 

“Let’s pray decently long,” Tsuzuru managed. 

The first one paused and then— 

and then vomited. 

Thick, putrid black slime shot out of its mouth and splattered onto the Barrier. 

“Tsuzuru,” Izumi whispered as her stomach plummeted. “That’s not... Is it?” 

The Caster closed his eyes. “Oh, _fuck me._ " 

The Barrier let loose a handful of green sparks and then promptly shattered. 

To his credit, Misumi acted first out of all of them. He thrust a hand out and sent a bolt of lightning forth, frying the corpse before it could take a step forward. Tsuzuru threw out a new Barrier Rune but it was only prolonging the inevitable now. All of them knew that. 

“Director,” Citron said urgently, placing a hand on her back. 

“What?” 

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. 

Misumi gasped, jaw dropping. “Oh my gosh.” 

“What? What’s happening?” Sakuya asked, still blinded by Izumi’s fingers. 

“ARE YOU FOR REAL RIGHT NOW?” Tsuzuru bellowed. “THIS IS REALLY NOT THE FUCKING TIME, CITRON.” 

Citron drew back, staring intensely. “Do you understand?” 

Izumi blinked several times. She rubbed her eyes. “Yes. Got it. Oh, we’re _so screwed_. Tsuzuru, go inside and protect the boys. Use every single defense Rune you’ve got in your big brain, we’ll keep things covered outside. But if worst comes to worst, keep at least them safe.” 

“Was there a _reason_ behind the sucking face?” he blustered. 

Citron took the Caster by his chin and smiled as he leaned in close. “I sent her the Sight of what is to come. Would you like the same?” 

Tsuzuru shoved his hand into Citron’s face and forced him back. “Major pass. I’ll go Rune the halls. Don’t die.” He ran inside. 

Izumi grabbed Misumi and Sakuya’s arms. “A few stragglers are going to be coming from the back. I need you two to do whatever you can to make sure they don’t get into the building. But don’t become martyrs, understand? If it’s too much for you, go inside and seek refuge with the others.” 

Misumi gave her a big smile. “Don’t worry, Director! I’ll keep Sakuya safe.” 

He flung an arm around the younger’s shoulders. 

“Um… Director… what about you?” Sakuya asked quietly, eyes flickering to the mob of undead beating on the walls. One leaned its head back, ready to spit black once more. 

Izumi hugged him close and tight, squeezing him until she couldn’t any more. “I’ll be fine, Sakuya, I promise. Go. Leave this to us.” 

He hesitated. 

“Misumi?” she ordered. 

He saluted. “Got it!” 

The older Witch grabbed Sakuya by his elbow and began pulling him around the building to the back. “C’mon, Sakuya! Let’s have some fun!” 

Izumi watched them go and let out a shaky breath. She turned around as the Barrier shattered and the zombies began to creep closer. She took out Tsuzuru’s knife from her belt and forced her stance lower. Citron reached for the abandoned hoe on the lawn and gave it a single twirl with a flick of his wrist, testing the weight. 

“How good are you with fighting?” Izumi asked. 

“Not very, but we have a ten percent chance of living,” he said simply. 

Izumi shuddered. “One in ten, Hm, not the _worst_ odds." 

And then she jammed her shoulder into the first corpse’s torso, forcing it back enough to drive the blade of her knife into its skull. The monster dropped and she leapt for the next.

* * *

“Hey, hey,” Misumi asked as he jumped around. “D’you see, like… mmmm… a triangle?” 

“A tri—excuse me?” Sakuya was trying very hard not to turn around and help the Director. “What?” 

Misumi leaned down and picked up a rake. “It’s not a triangle but it’ll work!” 

Blue sparks flew from his fingertips before sinking into the plastic. Misumi let go of it and Sakuya watched as the rake began floating higher and higher. Misumi swung one leg over it, then the other, then hung upside down like one would from a pull-up bar. 

“Sakuya!” Misumi said brightly, taking the other Witch’s hands in his. “Let’s have some fun!” 

“I—“ Sakuya’s eyes glowed. “Okay!" 

Misumi laughed wildly. “Up we go!” 

The stick he hung from shot into the air. Sakuya let out a screech as the two went flying. 

“You know how to do lightning?” Misumi asked pleasantly. 

“N-N-No!” 

“Just reach a hand out and let magic pile up around the wrist. Then shoot it out! If you want lightning, you’ll probably get lightning!” Misumi heaved, throwing the younger boy up further and letting go. “GOOD LUCK!” 

“MISUMI?” Sakuya screamed before he started falling. “MISUMI!” 

Someone grabbed his ankles. Sakuya looked up, trying not to vomit the heart that felt like it was stuck in his throat. Itaru looked back down at him, unimpressed, as the great, leathery black wings that protruded from his back flapped. 

“You doing lightning or not?” he asked flatly. “A few of them are coming now. I’m going to fly right over them." 

“R-Right!” 

Sakuya hung upside down completely and let magic gather like a pool of fire in his stomach. Warmth flooded down his veins into his hands. He stopped the flow right before it could drip out in fire like usual, letting that heat collect until his wrists felt like they were going to snap off. 

_I really hope Misumi knows what he’s talking about_ , he thought to himself before letting it loose. 

_BOOM._

“Devil have mercy," Itaru muttered as a great bolt of golden lightning shot down and incinerated one of the cadavers throwing themselves against the back Rune barrier. 

Sakuya stared at his palms. “Oh my god.” 

Misumi went flying by, cackling. “You did it! You did it! Congratulations! My turn!” 

He snapped his fingers and a blue spear of light went thundering off. 

Sakuya squeaked as Itaru let go of one ankle. He was essentially dangling high in the air with nothing holding him up except for one of the demon’s hands. 

“You think you can do that again?” Itaru asked. 

Sakuya swallowed dryly. “I’ll try!” 

“I’m putting you on the rooftop to give you better scope and then I'm heading to help out at the front.” The demon let out a snarl. “That halfblood doesn’t know when to call it quits.” 

“Keep the Director safe, Itaru. Please,” Sakuya begged. 

He chuckled before dropping the Witchling on the rooftop and jetting off once more. “One day, you all need to learn to stop asking demons for things. GL, Sakuya.” 

Sakuya let the energy gather in his wrists once more, pointing at an intruder. 

He set it off. 

* * *

_Keep your body in motion at all times_ , Izumi told herself. _Deflect blows with forearms._

A corpse lunged both hands forward for her neck. 

_Grip strength and outstretched arms are used to maintain a choke. Back and shoulder muscles are greater than the force of the hold_. She grabbed its wrists and leveled a swift kick to its inner thighs. Weight shifted and she flipped the thing right over her shoulder before diving at the zombie behind that one, sinking her knife into its skull with one harsh stab. 

Citron spun the hoe in his hands and leveled a crushing _thwack_ to an undead’s knee, another to its shoulder, and then drove the end of the hoe right through its head. 

“Krav Maga, Director? How impressive!” he called, forcing another one back. “Didn’t take you as one for martial arts." 

“I do what I can!” she yelled back. 

Something dropped from the air into the thicket of shambling bodies and a giant plume of searing hot magenta flame exploded. Instantaneous ash pillars quickly blew into nothing. 

“Behind you,” Itaru drawled lazily. 

Izumi rammed an elbow back without looking, felt it connect with a rib, and threw her entire body weight next. Both she and the zombie went careening for the ground. Teeth latched onto her forearm and, refusing to let tearing skin break her concentration, she simply tossed her knife into the air, grabbed it with her other hand, and stabbed the thing in the skull. 

She wrenched the jaw open and removed her arm, getting back up. 

“Thanks!” she snapped. 

“Hm. You are welcome.” Itaru flicked a finger behind him and a wall of flame consumed a line of corpses. "Your little Witch learned lightning."

"Did he now? Good for him." Izumi wiped her face, tasting sweat and blood. She clenched her jaw harder. Wasn’t the time to lose steam. 

A skeletal arm went swinging towards her. She ducked underneath it, hooked her elbow to catch the limb, and then spun. It popped right out of the socket and the corpse smashed to the ground. Knife in, knife out. 

Who was next?

* * *

_Barrier. Extension. Barrier. Barrier. Shock. Extension._

Layer after layer. Tsuzuru ground his teeth, not knowing when enough would be enough. Magic flowed out of him, making his vision spin and his head feel too light for his shoulders. But keep them safe. She’d told them to keep them all safe. 

“T-Tsuzuru, where are they?” Muku stammered, still curled up in a corner of the room like he’d fall apart otherwise. 

He looked over his shoulder and smiled at Muku as best as he could. The smile he’d give one of his younger brothers if they'd told him that they had woken from a scary dream. 

“They’re taking care of things. Don’t worry about them. You know they’re all stubborn but…” he laughed. “Most of them are as strong as bulls too to back it up.” 

Muku shivered. “There’s so many of them, Tsuzuru. I-I don’t know where they’re coming from.” 

“What’s going on?” 

Tsuzuru froze. He shut his eyes. 

“No…” he said once quietly. 

“Uh, Tsuzuru? What’s happening?” 

The Caster slowly turned and stared at Matsukawa who stood outside the twenty layers of Barrier Runes. Kamekichi was on his shoulder, still sleeping. 

“Matsukawa,” Tsuzuru said in monotone. He touched the tips of his fingers together. “Hm. Where’ve you been?” 

The manager raised an eyebrow. “Sleeping…? Can I know what the noise is all about?” 

Tsuzuru wanted to cry. 

He wanted to cry so badly. 

They’d forgotten about Matsukawa. They’d _forgotten_ him. 

He began to undo the Barriers, even as his body begged him to take a break. 

“When this is all over,” Tsuzuru said through gritted teeth, “I’m actually going to punch you and shave you bald as punishment.” 

Matsukawa paled. “What? Why?!”

* * *

Misumi frowned in displeasure. There were so many of them. Too many, maybe? That was bad. 

“Upsy-daisy.” He spun on the rake and sat on it properly, giggling a little as the blood went rushing out of his head. “Sakuya, you should go inside.” 

“I—huh? Why?” The Witchling looked confused. “You can’t handle this on your own!” 

Misumi laughed and grabbed him by the scruff of his sweatshirt, taking him from the rooftop down to the ground. “I’ll be okay! I have a lot of tricks up my sleeves. Lots of triangles! Just wanna make sure you’re safe. The Director told me to do that, you know.” 

Sakuya struggled. “Misumi, I _know_ the Director doesn’t trust me with a lot but I’m not a kid. I can help you.” 

“I know you can but I don’t need your help right now!” He stood on the rake with his two feet, balancing carefully. “They might need you inside though, ya know? Leave it to me. I know I might not look it, but I’m a little older than you so call it me pulling… um… what’s the word?” He cocked his head to the side. “Rank? Seniority? Seniority! I’m pulling seniority, so go inside.” 

“I can _help_ ,” Sakuya insisted. 

“You can help inside.” Misumi let his smile drop. “From one Witch to another, Tsuzuru is a really cool guy but Casters don’t have that much magical energy. They’re going to need you in there. Okay?” 

Sakuya swallowed. “Fine. But. Misumi…” 

“Uh-huh?” 

“Do you _promise_ you’re going to be okay?” 

Misumi unclipped the little earring he had in his left cartilage. He dropped the triangular little loop of gold and Sakuya caught it before it could hit the ground. 

“That’s a promise charm!” Misumi said brightly. “As long as you have that, I promise I’ll be safe. Okays?” 

Sakuya wrapped his fingers around it and held the piece of jewelry tight in his palm. “Okay. Okay, Misumi. You promised.” 

“Yep!” 

Sakuya hesitated only one second more before running into the dorm building. 

Misumi twirled his finger and made the rake turn around. He sighed as he looked at all of those undead bodies shuffling across the lawn. 

“I’m really sorryyyyyy,” he apologized, drawing out the word. “But I don’t think the Coven is accepting visitors right now!” 

He swept his hand into a wide arc overhead. The ground began to rumble. The teetering corpses lost their balance. 

Large, obsidian spikes burst forth, spearing everything in sight. 

Misumi looked down at the carnage and closed his eye. 

Ah. 

It all felt so nostalgic in the worst, stomach-churning way. 

The space beneath his eyepatch hurt. 

* * *

Tsuzuru dropped the final Rune and collapsed onto his hands and knees, dry-heaving. Too much. And now it was all pointless. His tank was empty. No Barriers were in place anymore. _Useless._ He was so useless.

“I hate you _so damn much,_ you mop-headed idiot!” he yelled into the floorboards, trying to stop the world from spinning. 

“Can I please know what’s going on?” Matsukawa asked. “It's like I never know anymore!” 

“Zombies!"

“ _HUH?_ ” 

Sakuya came running in, soles squeaking on the ground. 

“Sakuya, don’t wear your shoes inside—!” 

“Now isn’t the time, Matsukawa!” he said desperately, going to Tsuzuru’s side. “Are you okay? How can I help?” 

He moaned. “‘M fine. Barriers. Lots of ‘em. Got it?” 

“Got it!” The Witch got to work. 

Matsukawa helped Tsuzuru sit with his back to the hallway door. 

“Is Misumi okay?” Tsuzuru asked. 

Sakuya drew his lips into a thin line. “He promised he would be.” 

Masumi stirred. He opened a bleary eye and then sat up. “Why is everybody in my room?” 

“You wake up _now?_ ” Tenma asked disgustedly. “Dude. How hard do you sleep?” 

“Pretty hard.” Masumi narrowed his eyes and blinked a few times like he was trying to clear his vision. He rubbed the sleep away and squinted again at Tenma. He pointed at the window. “What the fuck is that?" 

Muku let out a screech as glass shattered right over his head.

* * *

Banri felt glee bubble in his stomach and make every hair stand on end as he watched the boy on a _floating rake_ send spikes through every corpse like it was nothing. 

“Holy shit, what a jackpot,” he whispered. “Hyodo, you seeing this? Hyodo?” 

He glanced at his ghost companion who looked incredibly upset. 

“They’re going through a lot of trouble,” he muttered. “It’s our fault.” 

“Oh, whatever. They’re handling it fine. What the fuck is this, do you think? Some kinda Hogwarts bullshit? _Magic_. Can you believe that?” Banri stretched and let the joints in his back pop. “Maybe they can help me make you physical again.” 

Juza scowled. “Do you not feel bad at all?” 

“Nah, not right now at least. They look fine to me and I’m too interested to be guilty.” He shrugged. 

“ _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!_ ” 

“Shit. Did that come from inside?” Banri squinted. “Hope those things didn’t go through a window. What d’you—Hyodo?” 

Juza was… shivering? 

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Banri asked. He waved a hand in front of Juza’s face. “Hello?” 

“ _Move_ ,” Juza snarled, eyes glowing red. He slammed the hell of his palm against Banri’s chest and Banri— 

He’d expected it to pass right through as usual, really. So he hadn’t prepared for the heavy weight catching him point blank right in the solar plexus. He gagged as all the wind got knocked out of him and he went sprawling on the asphalt. 

Hyodo had just _pushed_ him. 

As he tried to shake the spots from his vision, Banri could barely make out the silvery outline of Hyodo’s body go darker, nearly black, as the ghost sprinted towards the building. 

The fuck?

* * *

Tsuzuru wouldn’t be able to explain it later. 

One second, he was on the floor just barely able to stay conscious. 

The next, he heard Muku scream and glass break. Or was it glass break and Muku scream? It didn't matter.

Then right after, he had his forearm inside a corpse’s mouth. 

“TSUZURU!” Muku wailed. 

It was biting down, he realized, as teeth shredded through his jacket’s sleeve and started digging into his skin. Ah well. It was either the jacket or Muku, so. But—ouch, it was beginning to bite hard, wasn’t it? 

“Kazunari’s going to make fun of me if this leaves a scar,” Tsuzuru said out loud. 

“ _Move_ ,” Masumi snarled and pushed a frozen Tenma aside, taking the sword from his hand. He slashed through the zombie’s midsection with a full swing. The corpse dropped, unmoving, right on top of Tsuzuru.

The pressure from the bite lessened but the pain didn’t come. Tsuzuru looked down at the heavyily bleeding gash. “Hm. Huh. That is quite unfortunate.” 

Masumi leaned down and slapped the Caster across the face. 

Tsuzuru cleared his throat. “Masumi. That wasn’t nice.” 

Masumi slapped him again, harder. 

“OW. _ENOUGH_.” 

“Don’t go into shock,” Masumi said flatly. 

Tsuzuru lay flat on the dorm floor, cradling his arm to his chest. “I’ll try not to. A little difficult, actually, I think I’m already in shock. Can someone guard the window, please?” 

“Oh my god, oh my god, it’s all my fault,” Muku blubbered over and over again, each word higher pitched and more strained than the last as he struggled to calm down. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“Get out from under the window,” Masumi snapped, pushing Muku to the side. “And don’t cut yourself on the broken glass.” 

“I can’t—I can’t—I don’t—“ Muku was going into full panic mode. 

Masumi glared at Tema. “You.” 

“I… I, uh…” Tenma twitched. “I’m…” 

“SNAP OUT OF IT.” He pointed to Tsuzuru and Muku. “Get them out of here.” 

“Okay,” Tenma managed. “What are you going to do?” 

Masumi stared at him like he was stupid. “I’m going to the Director.” 

Then he jumped out the window. 

Tenma swallowed, heart hammering in his throat, and leaned down to hook elbows under Tsuzuru’s armpits. He started dragging him across the floor towards the hallway. “Jesus Christ. Jesus _Christ_.” 

“He loves you always,” Tsuzuru sang. “Just let him into your heart. Jesus will always accept you."

Another zombie was clawing itself into the room. Muku was still in there. 

“MUKU, _MOVE,”_ Tenma roared. 

The young Seer wasn’t listening. He just sat there, curled in on himself, eyes screwed shut and hands over his ears as he kept muttering things under his breath. As though he was trying to tune the entire world out. 

Tenma felt his pockets for his knife. Where was it? _Where_ — 

The corpse hauled itself over the frame. It reached for Muku. 

That was when, Tenma would say later as he tried to knit together a coherent explanation for the Director, the wraith appeared. 

He’d only seen wraiths before in textbook pictures and lecture slides. Angry, malevolent things with black talons and red eyes. Pale, pale skin. Shadowy and bloodthirsty aura. 

The wraith destroyed the zombie then and there, tearing it to pieces with furious snarls. Chunks of the skeleton went flying every which way. Then, the spirit knelt over Muku. 

“Don’t—“ Tenma choked out, dropping Tsuzuru to stop the monster before it did whatever it would do. 

But instead, the wraith merely carded razor sharp claws through pink fluffy hair and grunted, “You okay?” 

Muku slowly peeled open one eye and looked at the thing. His eyebrows drew together. “Ju-chan?”

* * *

Izumi jammed her knife into one last monster before her knee buckled. Exhaustion claimed swift ownership of her body.

Adrenlaine only carried you so far, huh?

Itaru grabbed her shoulder before she hit the ground and tried to force her back up. “Not yet, halfblood. The battle isn’t done yet.” 

Izumi let out a dry laugh. She couldn’t move anymore. But, at least she’d bought enough time. The boys inside were probably safe, right?

Citron let out a victorious cry. “Black jacket!” 

_BANG._

_BANG. BANG. BANG._

Izumi turned her head and watched as Sakyo and a few other men, all dressed in identical black overcoats, began to mow down the horde of undead with silver guns. She let out another half a laugh, half a sob. 

“Just in time, Sakyo,” she called out as her voice cracked. 

He readjusted his glasses. “Yes. Seems just about. Good work on holding things down, Miss Tachibana."

Izumi let herself go limp completely. Itaru grunted as he slipped two arms under her, one by her knees and another around her upper body. 

“You didn’t do too bad out here,” he said after a moment of quiet between them. 

Izumi grinned. “Damn right."

"GG, halfblood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, i have been waiting to write this chapter for so, so long
> 
> Thank you as always for reading!


	11. A Nuisance of a Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone: is citron/izumi endgame? do you ship citron/izumi?  
> me, leaning into the mic: citron is the only one who kissed izumi so far despite it being for Magic Reasons  
> someone: SHE'S DODGING THE QUESTION
> 
> also:
> 
> WE PASSED 100 KUDOS..... I'm actually a little stupid emotional/happy this story had such a warm reception, I NEVER expected it to be like this! Thank you so, so much, I'll continue to work as passionately as I can!

“I want to carry her.” 

“Piss off, Hunter brat,” Itaru retorted icily as he walked back inside with Izumi in his arms. 

He dropped her onto the couch the way one would drop a sack of potatoes and retreated to the kitchen, probably for a beer. 

Masumi knelt by her side on the carpet. “Are you okay?” 

“Just fine, kiddo,” she murmured and gave him a sloppy pat on the head. “Let’s hope things are quiet for a little bit after this.” 

“STOP, STOP, YOU CAN’T KILL HIM, _YOU CAN’T!_ ” 

Izumi clenched her teeth. She'd spoken too soon.

“GET _AWAY_ FROM HIM, YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!” 

“ _You're_ the one who doesn't know anything! That’s a _wraith_ , it’ll kill you!” 

“JU-CHAN WON’T HURT ME! TAKE IT BACK!” 

Citron chuckled awkwardly and hurried down the hall. “This seems to call for my assistance.” 

“Handle it,” Izumi called tiredly. She leaned back and sighed. Her body was numb but thrumming with the promise of sore muscles soon. She’d be bedridden for at least a day for sure. “What a mess.” 

“DIRECTOR!” 

Sakuya came barreling towards her, sliding the last few feet on his knees. He peered at her with concern. “Are you okay? I—your arm’s bleeding, but are you, like, _okay?_ ” 

“Just a bit of a bite, Sakuya, don’t worry about me.” 

Itaru walked over and smacked his knuckles down, first into Masumi’s skull then Sakuya’s. The latter more tenderly than the former, Izumi noticed. “Lay off her. She’s exhausted herself.” 

Sakuya took her hand and pressed his forehead to the back of it. “I’m glad you made it out. I’m so, so glad. I did everything you told me to, Director." 

Izumi’s heart melted. She wished she had the energy to do more than just give him a little nudge on the nose with her finger. “I know. I’m so proud of you.” 

His eyes shone. 

Misumi came in through the courtyard’s sliding glass door, hopping off a (was that a flying rake? She’d have to ask him about that later). His upper body collapsed over the back of the couch and the ends of his hair tickled her nose. “Director, you’re alive! That’s good.” 

“Takes more than an army of the undead to kill me off, I guess,” she said warmly. “You did good too, Misumi. Thank you for protecting the Coven.” 

“We gotta protect home!” he said with a huff like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Sakuya handed him a little piece of metal. “I’m glad you’re okay too, Misumi.” 

“I promised, after all!” Misumi replied cheerfully as he put his earring back in. 

Tenma stomped into the living room. “Is the madness over?” 

“Yes—“ 

“CAN YOU PLEASE TELL THAT DAMN SEER THAT WRAITHS ARE NOT _FRIENDS_ ,” the boy roared, pointing behind him. 

Muku came out holding the sleeve of a— 

Izumi closed her eyes and took in a deep breath through her nose. 

“Why is there a wraith under my roof?” she asked, refusing to open them. 

“Director, t-this is Ju-chan! He’s my cousin who d-d—,” Muku choked on the word and promptly skipped right over it, “six months ago. He _protected_ me when a zombie was about to bite, I swear! He’s good! I don’t care if T-Tenma says he’s a wraith or whatever!” 

Izumi cracked one eye open and stared the malevolent spirit down. “This true?” 

The wraith looked nervous. She felt a giggle bubble out of her. A nervous wraith… who'd have thought she would ever see such a thing? “Yes, ma’am.” 

Citron helped Tsuzuru stumble in, the Caster’s arm over his shoulder. He guided him to the arm chair and let the younger melt into the comfortable cushions. 

“You like look shit,” Tsuzuru said off-handedly. 

Izumi laughed loudly at that. “I’ll let you off with cussing in front of the kids just this once. Only because you got bit.” 

He held up a blood-soggy sleeve with exaggerated pomp. “Think I’ll look cool when this scars over?” 

She showed him her own. “We’ll be matching.” 

Tenma cleared his throat and gestured wildly to the wraith once more. “Do I need to mention THE GHOST WITH CLAWS AGAIN?” 

“Oh, whatever,” Izumi sang as she waved a hand dismissively. “He’s not killing anybody, is he? That immediately puts him above like… _most_ of the moving forms I’ve interacted with since waking up.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“He really can’t be much worse than Itaru, can he?” 

The demon snorted. “Disrespectful.” 

“Bite me.” 

He looked pointedly at her arm. “Leftovers? No, thank you.” 

They all sat, stood, kneeled, whatever, in silence. Just an unthreatening moment where no one was screaming, no one was crying, and no one was in risk of dying anytime soon. It was nice, Izumi thought in the haze that befuddled her. Why didn’t they do this more often? 

Sakuya broke the quiet first. “I… Uh, school’s in a few hours. Should I go back to sleep or start getting ready?” 

For some reason, _that_ was what broke the dam. 

She stared at this boy who’d just gone through a life-threatening ordeal, saw the undead try to break into his house, fought for his life and the lives of his friends… asking if he should get ready for school. Her throat hurt. 

“Director? Director, why are you crying?” Sakuya asked as he panicked. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think school was such a sensitive issue for you!” 

Masumi punched him in the shoulder. “Good going. You made her cry.” 

“I didn’t mean to, I swear!” 

“Misumi, help me up,” Izumi said tersely. 

The Witch took her arm and dragged her to a sitting position. Izumi wrapped her arms around Sakuya in the tightest hug her battered muscles could manage. 

“You don’t have to go to school today, kiddo.” She raised her eyes to everyone in the room. “None of you do. I’ll call your schools and call for an off-day. We’ll—rent a movie and just take it easy. I’m so proud of all of you for being so reliable during this time.” 

“Ah, sick. Does that apply to me too?” 

Everyone turned to stare at the boy sitting in the kitchen, tearing bits from a muffin and popping them into his mouth. 

“This muffin’s great,” the boy continued. “Where’d you buy it from?” 

Izumi squinted at the sandy locks and purple flannel. After running through the roster of people living in the Coven in her head a couple of times, just to make sure she hadn’t _forgotten_ one of her students, she could say with 90% certainty that this kid didn’t go here. 

“Sorry, who are you?” she asked. 

The kid jerked his chin, the way kids did when they were too cool to give a proper greeting. “S’up. I’m Banri.” 

“Hm.” Izumi wondered if twenty-four was too early to go into retirement. “I’ll ask again. _Who_ are you?” 

Ju-chan growled, “Settsu and I were the ones who raised the dead. He did the spell.” 

Retirement sounded great, actually. 

“Masumi,” she ordered. 

He stood up and lifted the sword. “Got it.” 

“The fuck?” This Banri kid frowned. “I’m just here eating my goddamn muffin, put the sword down.” 

Izumi closed her eyes. “So you’re telling me that _you’re_ the one responsible for using black magic that almost got everyone in this room killed.” 

“Sorry ‘bout that, by the way.” He shrugged. “Reddit be wilding or whatever. So about that movie—“ 

Tsuzuru sighed. “Sakuya, my tank’s empty. Bind him.” 

“R-Right!” Sakuya thrust his hand forward and the same red twine that bound Kazunari when he’d first appeared soon wrapped around Banri. 

“You couldn’t have let me _finish a muffin?_ ” he complained. “Totally bogus.” 

“Do we just hand him over to Furuichi?” Tsuzuru asked. 

Izumi pursed her lips. “Banri, how old are you?” 

He winked at her. “Sorry. Not really into older women.” 

“I’m going to kill him,” Masumi announced and took another step forward. 

“Masumi, no.” She looked to the wraith who, and this was something she could laugh at later, was proving to be the more reliable one when it came to supplying answers. “Do you know how old he is?” 

“Seventeen. The both of us are.” Ju-chan shuffled his feet. “Uh. I _was_ , I mean.” 

Tsuzuru threw his head back and moaned. “God _fucking_ damn it.” 

“Watch your language,” Izumi chided him. “I said I’d let you off with it once.” 

“I know exactly how this is going to go now,” Tsuzuru spat. “You’re going to be all ‘Oh my god, he’s just a little kid, let’s NOT hand him over to the police even though he’s a criminal, let’s instead accept him into our arms and the Coven and then we can all sing kumbaya while we hold hands in a big circle!’” 

Izumi’s jaw dropped. “I have _never_ said that!” 

“Look at the guy behind you.” 

Izumi turned her head and saw Misumi. She turned back to Tsuzuru. “Okay, so I did that once. But I don’t sound like that!” 

“You might as well.” Tsuzuru looked like he was going to cry. “Director, I’m a poor college student and I can’t offer you much. But I will pay you the whole seventeen dollars in my wallet right now if you just let it go, and hand this kid over to Furuichi.” 

“Eat my dick, you nerd, fuck the police!” Banri snapped, struggling against the red bindings. “The only illegal thing I did was break into a graveyard and I guess technically rob graves but that’s not my fault!” 

“Nerd?” Tsuzuru gasped. “Why does every single cursed organism in this Coven live to insult me?” 

Izumi pointed. “Aha! You said he’s in the Coven! No backsies.” 

“Director, you have _got_ to be kidding me.” 

“I’m not going to hand over someone seventeen to the cops, Tsuzuru.” 

“Oh!” Sakuya gasped as he slapped a hand over his mouth. “ _That’s_ why you look so familiar! You’re Banri Settsu!” 

“You know him?” Izumi and Tsuzuru asked in unison. 

Sakuya nodded. “Yeah! He’s in another class but he’s in my year.” 

“I am?” Banri asked. 

“I’m Sakuya Sakuma.” He gestured to Masumi. “That’s Masumi, he’s in the year below us. We both go to Hanasaki Academy. And this is the Director, she runs this whole place.” 

“What is this place by the way?” Banri looked around. “Saw y’all doing some magic shit or whatever.” 

Izumi bit her lip. “Well…” 

Someone knocked on the door. “ _Miss Tachibana? The perimeter sweep is finished. May I come in?_ ” 

Oh, fuck. She whipped her head towards Itaru. “Take Banri and Ju-chan—“ 

“Juza,” the wraith interrupted. 

“WHATEVER. Take them to your room and then come right back out. Juza, I’m going to pray you’re a good egg despite appearances and tell you to not let Banri out of his bindings no matter what until we come get you, understand?” 

Itaru sighed. “That’s so bothersome.” 

“Itaru, as God as my witness, I will stop paying the electricity bills if you don’t listen to me!” 

He leaned in with a sneer. “Gimme a kiss and I’ll think about it.” 

Masumi leveled the sword to the demon’s head. “Back off.” 

Oh, she hated living here sometimes, she really did. 

Juza raised a shadowy hand. “It’s okay. I’ll do it.” 

Another knock. “ _Miss Tachibana?_ " 

“Hyodo, you backstabbing bastard son of a bitch!” Banri spat as the wraith leaned over and picked him up like a rolled carpet. “The second you become physical you’re going to lock me in a room tied up? Fight me!” 

Muku’s mouth worked as his eyes teared up. “S-Stop saying mean things to Ju-chan!” 

“Excuse us,” Juza said gruffly and went down the hall, opening and closing Masumi’s door. 

“I will go get the door,” Citron said, ever cheerful. 

He soon led in Sakyo Furuichi, who looked as composed as always despite the nightmarish hour. 

“ _You?_ ” Sakyo snapped as soon as he saw Tenma. “Why are you here?” 

“I teach here now,” Tenma shot back, just as displeased. “Mom wanted me to tell you that she has the wards around our house up. If you visit again while they’re out, expect to get fried.” 

“Incorrigible,” Sakyo muttered under his breath. “This place is becoming a magnet for all the worst spawn." 

Izumi felt a _little_ bad for the guy, honestly. He didn’t deserve all of the hate the Bloodlines seemed to have for him. He’d been nothing but pretty nice to her since's she'd arrived at the city.

“All of the undead have been dispatched and my men are cleaning up the remains as we speak,” Sakyo reported. “We’ll be assigning a patrol each night for the next week so you may rest easy. Do you have any idea where they came from?” 

“Not at all,” Izumi said. 

Tsuzuru physically turned his head to look away while a vein stuck out in his neck. 

“There are two concerns I have before I’ll leave you to recuperate.” Sakyo looked at Misumi. “That one used black magic.” 

“Did he?” She turned around to give Misumi a light smack on his head. “Bad. I told you not to.” 

“I’m sorryyyyy,” he said, not sounding very sorry at all. 

“Miss Tachibana, need I remind you that black magic is illegal and punishable by years of incarceration?” 

Misumi pumped his fists into the air. “Yay! Sleepover at Sakyo’s again! Can Kazu come with?” 

“Down, boy.” Izumi gave the councilman her best smile despite still feeling like she’d been demolished by a steamroller. “Sakyo, Misumi acted in self defense. If it's either black magic or one of my charges dying, I’d take black magic any day of the week. He won’t use it for any other purpose, we’ve already decided that.” 

“Miss Tach—“ 

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, enough of that. You know I prefer being called Director. Or even Izumi if you’d prefer!” 

Sakyo closed his mouth. After a moment, he said flatly, “I don’t think that would be proper at this current juncture in our… relationship.” 

Tsuzuru smirked and pantomimed waving a whip. 

“Director then, really.” She frowned. “Sakyo, a kitchen knife is used to cut potatoes for dinner. But a kitchen knife can turn into a weapon in times of danger. It’s the same with magic. I will never, ever teach any of my students how to use black magic but if a situation comes to life or death, they’re permitted to any and all actions in self defense. You can understand where I’m coming from, can’t you?” 

He sighed and ducked his head. “I concede… Director.” 

“Good! You said you’ve got a second point?” 

Sakyo clenched his jaw and glared at another person in the room. “The _demon_.” 

Itaru held up two fingers. “Yo.” 

“He incinerated an entire platoon of reanimated. I cannot permit such a dangerous presence to go unchecked without the Council’s knowledge. He is a _living weapon_." 

Itaru looked to the side and put a palm to his cheek, feigning shyness. “Oh my… blondes don’t do it for me usually but you just might make me change my mind if you keep the flattery up.” 

Izumi clasped her hands together. “Sakyo, _please_ just look this over for a bit. Itaru really isn’t that bad, he just holes up in his room and plays video games like a geek! The only reason he listened to me was because I promised him Red Bull!” 

Yeah, he threatened to kill her every now and then, but he wasn’t outright evil. Plus, he was a good failsafe defense system when things got dangerous. She’d also just gotten kind of fond of having his personality around even if he was snippety and cold. 

Sakyo winced. “Have you found his summoner yet?” 

“No,” she said, refusing to look at Misumi. 

Sakyo pursed his lips. “I will permit it for a time being. But I will urge you to bring this to the Council’s opinion as soon as possible. Of your own volition.” 

“I promise.” (She crossed her fingers behind her back so it didn’t count.) “Uhhh… about the guys who saw him. I don’t suppose you could ask them to just, like, not mention it?” 

He chuckled dryly. “My men work for me, not the Council. They will turn a blind eye if I command it.” 

“You’re not cool,” Tsuzuru said sharply. “I want to make that clear for everyone impressionable here,” a thumb jab in Sakuya’s direction, “and yourself. You are not cool. Stop trying to say cool things.” 

“I’ll be sure to pay a surprise inspection of the Minagi Labs soon.” 

“I hope you choke on your breakfast.” 

Izumi clapped her hands. “Well! If that’s all, we really could use some time to freshen up.” 

Sakyo stared at her bloody sleeve. “May I?” 

“Um? Sure?” 

He walked closer and went down on one knee to inspect her arm. Masumi scowled. 

Sakyo looked at the deep gash in the flesh that still oozed blood gently. A strange look overcame him before he covered the mark with a gloved hand. 

“You should be more careful with yourself,” he said softly. 

Tsuzuru waved his arm. “I got bit too, Furuichi. You gonna propose to me next?” 

Izumi laughed and took her hand away. “I’ll be fine.” 

“At least let me call a medic,” Sakyo urged. “It’s deep. You’ll need stitches to repel infection and I’d rather you not go to a hospital. I can assure you that Taylor is the best in his craft.” 

“Well… okay.” 

Sakyo stood up and nodded. “Then good day, Miss Tach… Director. Expect the medic here within the hour. I’ll be off now. Call me if anything else arises.” 

“ _Crack_ ,” Tsuzuru muttered, waving the invisible whip again. 

They both ignored him. 

Sakyo closed the front door and Izumi collapsed onto the couch, moaning into a cushion. 

“You kids are going to get me in _jail_ ,” she whimpered. “God. What am I even doing?” 

“That’s what I’ve been asking!” Tsuzuru snapped. 

Muku smiled gently. “Ahhh… Mister Furuichi is so cool, isn’t he? I’d like to be like that one day.” 

“No, he is not!” Tsuzuru yelled. “No, you _don’t!_ " 

“Muku, can you ask your cousin to come back out with the little necromancer?” Izumi asked. 

He jumped, startled. “Right!” 

Misumi leaned his head back and yawned. “Director… Can I go get some more sleep?” 

“Of course you can. Itaru, Masumi, Sakuya, you all can go too.” 

Itaru snapped his fingers and summoned a garish purple throne made from what looked like silk and bone. “I’d much rather stay. A necromancer is interesting and I suppose my server can do without my presence for a little longer.” 

“I wanna stay too!” Sakuya insisted. “I know Banri from school, if he’s actually going to join the Coven then I wanna watch! We could become friends.” 

Masumi sat down beside her. “Don’t wanna leave you alone.” 

She rubbed her forehead. Troublesome, the lot of them. But she found it a little endearing, too. 

“Tenma?” 

The Hunter frowned and looked away. “…Whatever. I’m going back to sleep. I don’t get any of you.” 

“Back to sleep? You didn’t even do anything,” Masumi muttered. 

Tenma bloomed every shade of red imaginable. “S-SHUT UP!” 

Izumi suddenly had a very, very, very bad feeling. She loved (well, at the very least _liked_ ) all of the people in the Coven but… she’d have to be blind and then some to not realize that she shared a living space with a few dickheads. 

Tsuzuru let out a _pfft_ into his palm. “Oh right. I almost forgot. When that zombie was on top of me trying to eat my insides, you were frozen, weren’t you, Tenma? Who would have thought, all that clout to the Sumeragi name and their heir is a coward.” 

“STOP TALKING, STOP TALKING RIGHT NOW.” 

“Ehhhh,” Itaru drawled, inspecting his fingernails. “A Hunter that dared challenge me, cowering when the chips are in play? Humiliating.” 

Tears pricked in the corner of Tenma’s eyes as the blush spread to his ears and his neck. “I _HATE ALL OF YOU._ ” 

Misumi jumped forward and grabbed Tenma’s hands in his. “It’s okay, Tenma, I still like you a lot!” 

“W-Witch…” 

“Even if you’re a total scaredy pants!” 

Tenma snatched his hands away and ran to his room. “SCREW ALL OF YOU! DIE! SEE IF I CARE! JUST DIE!” 

Citron smiled. “He is a fiery one, is he not?"

* * *

Banri was unceremoniously dumped onto one of the kitchen chairs and pushed to be across from Izumi. Which wasn’t a show of strength to belittle him, in full honesty, she just wasn’t confident at all in her abilities to walk. 

“So!” she said, offering a smile. “Summoned the living dead, huh?” 

Banri shrugged, as best as he could while tied up. “If it helps, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to bring Hyodo back to life.” 

“A friend of yours?” 

“ _Fuck_ no.” 

She clicked her tongue. “Banri, I don’t like it when kids use cuss words. I know it’s a little old fashioned but I’d really like it if you didn’t curse until you turn eighteen. Can you respect that rule?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? Seriously?” 

“Oddy enough, she’s serious,” Tsuzuru called from his lounge in the arm chair. 

The teen looked away. “Whatever.” 

“Great! So have you ever done magic before?” 

Banri scoffed. “I mean, besides seeing Hyodo out on the streets in the middle of the night, no.” 

“Your parents magic?” 

Banri actually cringed. “My dad is an accountant. My mom is an actuary.” 

“Oh.” Izumi shivered. “The opposite of magic then. Well, Firstborn, like I’d assumed.” She glanced to Citron. “You know what affinity he is?” 

Citron shook his head though he squinted. “It is strange, but no.” 

“Ah, well. Time for the basic test. Sakuya, can you bring us a glass of water?” 

“Right!” 

Muku raised his hand. “Um… excuse me, sorry. Affinity? Test?” 

Izumi blinked. “Ah. Now that I think about it, you never took the test. The water test is something we use to determine a magician’s affinity. It’s old-fashioned but it works really well. Witches make the water bubble, Casters make the water glow. Seers make the water ripple, and Hunters repel water.” 

“What do _any_ of those words mean?” Banri asked. 

Izumi waved her hand. “Due time, due time.” 

Sakuya placed a glass of water on the table and snapped his fingers. The red twine around Banri disappeared. He stretched his arms, letting blood move freely once more. 

“Put your finger in the water and say _adfinitas_ , please,” Izumi said politely. 

Banri stuck his middle finger in, which she chose to not comment on. “ _Adfinitas_.” 

Nothing happened. 

Muku scratched his head. “So what affinity is he?” 

“Say it again,” Izumi commanded. 

“ _Adfinitas_.” 

Nothing. 

“What,” Tsuzuru dead-panned. 

Izumi felt her headache spike. “Again!” 

“Nothing is happening!” 

“Just do it!” 

“ _Adfinitas!_ ” 

…Nothing. 

Izumi put her face in her palms and choked down another swelling urge to just cry. That didn’t make sense. 

“You sure he’s magic?” Tsuzuru asked. 

“He summoned an entire battalion of zombies! What other explanation is there?!” 

Banri threw his head back and groaned. “You’re all so weird. Why isn’t the test working? Y’all sure you aren’t just a bunch of frauds?” 

Itaru rose from his makeshift throne. “Excuse me. Can I take a look?” 

Izumi waved a hand. “Go ahead. Banri, this is Itaru, a demon friend of ours.” 

“A demon? Like hell?” 

Itaru gave a sweeping, dramatic bow. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

Banri nodded. “Cool, dude. If my parole officer’s any good at predictions, I’ll be seeing you in a few decades. They got any comfy beds down in hell?” 

“We have pools of fire for sinners." 

Their guest clicked his tongue. “Sucks. You got a king?” 

“Of sorts. Human rulership is difficult to apply to the realm of the underworld.” 

“Cool, I’ll just organize a revolution when I get down there or something.” 

Itaru leaned forward and took Banri’s chin in his claws. He peered deep into the boy’s eyes. They all waited. Then the demon stepped back and quite literally spat onto the carpet. 

“What is wrong with you!” Izumi wailed. “That’s expensive!” 

“He’s not a magician,” Itaru said with scorn. “He’s blessed.” 

Tsuzuru fell off his arm chair. 

Citron clapped his hands. “I see! It would explain your aura!" 

Sakuya stood up, his eyes glowing as they always did whenever he heard an unfamiliar term. “What does blessed mean?” 

“I’d love to know too,” Banri said. 

Itaru crossed his arms. His lips twisted into something so disgusted and upset, Izumi was surprised Banri didn’t just explode into pieces then and there. “Let me guess. Exceptionally good at anything you attempt? Never gotten sick before? Luck always seems to be on your side?” 

“You stalkin’ me, bro?” 

Itaru retched in the back of his throat. “ _Blessed_.” He said it with the same tone someone would use to say syphilis. 

“I quit,” Tsuzuru said immediately. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to stay in this Coven. I quit.” 

“What does blessed _mean?_ ” Sakuya pressed. 

Izumi took in a slow, deep breath to calm her nerves. “Sakuya, you know how Itaru is a demon from hell, and how he can kill just about anything he wants to?” 

“He’s also really good at Mario Kart!” 

“Demons have the ability to curse Bloodlines as well. It’s… ugly. Very, very evil and dark. It’s worse than just killing them off, it curses every generation to be born with deformities, illness, failure. Inescapable tragedy at every turn. It makes their birth a sin.” Izumi shuddered. “When people talk about a fate worse than death, a demon’s curse is a prime example.” 

“On the other hand,” Tsuzuru said as he struggled to sit up. “Angels can bless people.” 

Sakuya squeaked. “There are angels?” 

Itaru growled. “They wear white and they have wings but the resemblances end there. You think I’m an asshole? I’m downright fuzz off a peach compared to those self-righteous bastards.” 

Banri shrugged. “Sounds about right, though. Dunno if my whole family’s blessed but I’m definitely up there.” 

Izumi leaned back on the couch and wondered when things had started to become so complicated. A blessed child. She weighed the choices in her mind and came to a decision. 

“Join the Coven,” she said to the boy. 

Tsuzuru moaned. “There it is.” 

Banri shrugged. “Cool.” 

“That easily?” Izumi asked. 

“I dunno. Sounds interesting. Life gets boring when you can do anything you want.” He shrugged again. “Might as well join a group of people who know what’s up. Sounds better than crawling on Reddit for hours, anyway.” 

Sakuya blinked several times and then asked the room at large, “So what can blessed people do in terms of magic?” 

“Everything,” Tsuzuru said flatly. 

“OP hacks,” Itaru agreed.

Izumi winced. “Well, they’re a jack of all trades. They can do all types of magic, just maybe not as skillfully as those born with affinity. Few blessed make their way into the magic world as is, most are fine with living among the magic-less and being the cream of the crop there. But if Banri’s got luck, we definitely need it. Maybe it’ll calm things down for us…?” 

“That’s wishful thinking, Director,” Tsuzuru muttered. 

“Maybe, but it’s what I’ve got.” She turned her gaze to the wraith. “You on the other hand…” 

Muku stepped in front of his cousin and clasped his hands together. “Please let him stay, Director. If Ju-chan causes trouble, I-I’ll take responsibility. He’s super, duper strong! Was when he was alive, and even now.” He threw a glowing smile over his shoulder. “He _saved_ me.” 

Juza looked away. “…Wasn’t anythin’.” 

“Hold up.” Banri stood. “If Hyodo ain’t joining, neither am I.” 

Citron spun in a circle with the back of his hand to his forehead. “Ah, comrades. Such a beautiful thing to witness!” 

“I swore that I’d beat this fuckhead into the—stop looking at me like that. FINE. This _jerk_ into the dirt, even if he was a ghost. That hasn’t changed.” 

Izumi tried to process that. “So… so you tried to, uh. Reincarnate this guy, because… because you wanted to fight him?” 

“Damn right, lady.” 

She threw a poisonous glare to Tsuzuru. “This is the problem with your generation. None of you make sense.” 

“The group you’ve been witness to is a terrible, terrible example of my age group,” the Caster said.

Banri sneered. "I'll wipe the floor with you, Hyodo. You've got a physical form or whatever now so expect my fist in your face soon."

Muku yelled, “STOP BULLYING HIM!” with tears welling up in his eyes. 

Izumi raised her hands to stop it all. “Enough.” 

They all went quiet. 

“Citron, what can you tell about Juza?” 

The Seer smiled softly. “He was the ghost I saw with Muku when fate led our paths to cross. Although he has knife fingers—“ 

“Talons,” Tsuzuru interrupted. 

“Jimmy Fallons—“ 

“What? That wasn’t even close, were you listening to me?” 

“—he bears no ill will to anybody in this Coven. I would even go so far as to say that Juza became this,” he gestured, “as a reaction to save Muku. A grudge against those who have cruel intentions for his family, perhaps. A hazard guess.” 

Muku slowly turned. “Ju-chan… you were the ghost following me around?” 

The wraith furrowed his brow, eyes trained to the ground. He shoved his clawed hands into his ephemeral pockets. “Sorry. Bothered you. Didn’t know where else to go, though.” 

“N-No! It’s okay.” Muku’s face scrunched up as his tears fell heavily. He wiped his eyes. “I’m s-s-sorry I didn’t see you before now. You must have been so lonely, Ju-chan.” 

Juza patted Muku’s head, gentle as foxtail with those razor sharp talons. “Nah.” 

Banri interrupted the moment with a rude retching sound. “Gross. You can’t pull off close to a fuckin’ heartwarming look with that ugly mug, Hyodo.” 

“Hah? Shut up, Settsu.” 

“Make me, Casper.” 

“Altar boy.” 

“ENOUGH!” Izumi snapped. God, she wouldn’t be able to keep up with these youngsters. She needed to find some older people in this city to hang out with. “I’ll trust Citron on this one. Juza, you can stay.” 

The wraith ducked his head. “…Thanks.” 

“Ju-chan!” Muku wailed, throwing his arms around his cousin. 

Tsuzuru gave her a look that said _When can I hand in my resignation letter?_ She threw him one right back that said _Over my dead body. You think I’m going to handle this on my own?_

Citron cleared his throat. “Director. Someone will be at the door soon.” 

“Ah? Oh, the medic. Can you let him in? His name was Taylor, right?” 

“Of course.” 

Banri got up. “I should get home soon. Sun’s gonna come up and my parents will get pissed if they found out I broke out again. I’ll swing by after my nap.” 

“You have school, Banri,” Izumi said sharply. “I’m not going to call you in sick. I don’t even have guardianship over you.” 

He scoffed. “I’ll skip. I’m tired as shit.” 

“ _Banri!_ ” 

“I’m tired as crap,” he remedied. “See ya. Hyodo, you better not go back to being air or I’ll seriously kill you.” 

The wraith made a sharp _tsk_ sound and didn’t even reply. 

And so, the walking grace of God shambled out of the living room and Izumi let herself relax. Until a young girl walked in with Citron, dressed in the frilliest, girliest rose pink dress she’d ever seen. 

“I work on commission for that ugly council dog so I’m getting paid tons for the emerency hours,” she said in complete monotone, “but I hate being woken up this early. I hope you don’t get too upset if I stab you with a needle too hard.” 

Izumi could only summing a small grin. “Ah, Taylor, right? I’d been expecting a boy.” 

“I _am_ a boy,” the newcomer retorted. “You’re so close-minded for assuming. Just because I’m wearing a dress? Boomer.” 

“ _Boom_ —“ Izumi actually choked. She’d never been called a boomer before. It was kind of a slap to the face. “Sorry. My bad. Um… so, Taylor, are you a healer?” 

“I’m Yuki,” he said sharply. “And my code name is _Tailor_ , not _Taylor_. I’m here to stitch you up.” He reached into his little red purse and removed a small sewing kit. “Literally.” 

Oh, mother of Christ. Izumi could not remember a single day in her life she hated more than this one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!


	12. A Sinking Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banri is a terrible influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the (arguably somewhat compared to the others) late chapter! I spent the first day kind of reviewing the overarching plot and making a few changes here or there
> 
> Also, note: There are a few inconsistencies with the canon that I've changed. They're not so important to demand a re-read but
> 
> 1) There are actually 10 Minagi kids, and Tsuzuru is the third oldest.  
> 2) Kazunari goes to Veludo Arts, not Tsuzuru's college. But they're still friends.

The Tailor looked around and clicked his tongue. “Am I going to do this with an _audience_?” 

"Yikes. I actually really dislike needles so I’ll be in my room, Director,” Sakuya said and hurriedly made his exit. 

“Ah!” Muku exclaimed and clapped his hands. “I _knew_ you were familiar. You’re Yuki Rurikawa!"

“You guys know each other too?” Izumi asked. It was either through extreme coincidences that everyone seemed to know each other or Fate doing its thing again.

Muku nodded. “He’s, um, he goes to school with me. We’re both Saint Flora students. I've seen him in the lunch room.” 

“Saint Flora?” Tsuzuru asked and screwed up his face. “Isn’t that a missionary school? Why would your parents send you somewhere like that.” 

“How can you judge them, aren’t you catholic?” Izumi whispered to him.

"Just because I'm somewhat religious doesn't mean I'm fond of establishments formed from the word of God."

Yuki’s eyes went half-lidded, gaze nearly dripping with disinterest. “Morning, Muku. I guess I won’t be seeing you in the halls today. You have a wraith standing behind you, in case you're unaware." 

“That’s Ju-chan! He’s my c-cousin.” Muku put a hand on Juza’s arm again. “I guess… I guess I can’t go to school. I’m a little too tired. And there’s so much I want to talk to Ju-chan about, I can’t—!" 

Citron placed a palm on both Muku and Juza’s backs, cutting the ramble off. “I think there is a conversation I must be having with these two. To my broom!” 

“Room,” Tsuzuru said. 

“To my room! Let us leave the director to get patched up.” 

Itaru vanished his chair and stood up. “I’ll be in my room as well. If you need me, simply don't. I expect my reward by tonight, the sooner the better.” 

Izumi winced. A trip to the grocery store was the last thing she needed today, but a promise was a promise. The demon walked off.

Masumi didn’t say a word and didn’t make any move towards leaving. 

“Masumi, I’d rather you not watch,” Izumi said. 

He frowned. “I don’t want to leave your side.” 

“Kiddo, you are a _real_ piece of work, you know that? Go to your room.” 

“There’s a dead body in my room.” 

“WHAT?” 

Tsuzuru shivered. “That must be the one that bit me. Masumi slew it, you know, give the kid a reward tonight for saving my life.” 

“I want you,” Masumi said immediately. 

“I meant like a slice of cake or something, cool your jets.” 

Izumi felt like all of this was just one of those things she would deal with when she wasn’t about to keel over. “Masumi, could you stay in Sakuya’s room then? I’ll call Sakyo right after about removing that… thing.” 

God, she hadn’t been in this Coven for even two months and already there was a dead body in one of her students’ rooms. How did it get like this? 

"…Fine.” He walked off with a yawn. Izumi hoped he would take a nap to make up for the lost hours of sleep. 

“Are there any magic-less in the building?” Yuki asked as soon as it was only him, Izumi, and Tsuzuru left. 

Izumi shook her head. 

“Good.” 

She watched the boy wave his hand and his entire body shimmer. Like a mirage, he disappeared. Where did he—? 

“Down here.” 

Izumi looked down and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god.” 

Yuki scowled at his height of about a foot tall. He took off his hat and swept his hair behind his ears, showing off pointed tips. “What. You’ve never seen a brownie before?” 

“You’re so _small_.” 

“You’re really going to say that when I’m about to put a needle in you,” he said flatly. “I can forego the numbing medicine.” 

“But… But you’re so tiny!” she gushed. “Do all brownies do that? Walk around as humans?” 

Yuki shrugged and got to opening his sewing kit. “Most of us who live in cities do. Staying inside all the time is such a bummer. I’ve heard of some brownie clans in the countryside who walk around freely since there’s less risk of being seen.” 

“How do you do it?” 

“It’s just a basic glamour.” The needle was the size of a ruler in his tiny, tiny hand. “Original form just helps me with precision is all. Where’s the wound?” 

Izumi rolled up her sleeve and lay flat on the couch. She could barely hold back a coo as Yuki struggled to climb up the side for better access. He snapped his fingers and a syringe floated from his purse towards him. 

“This will sting for just a second,” the brownie told her before sinking the tip in near the bite and pressing down on the end. 

Izumi made a face at the pinch but, just as promised, the pain soon disappeared and numbness took over. 

“What potion is that?” she asked as Yuki threaded the needle with surgical thread. 

He scoffed. “It’s lidocaine. You magicians can’t go forty seconds without relying on magic, huh?” 

“How old are you, Yuki? Your human form doesn’t look any older than fifteen.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fourteen.” 

“Muku’s age, then,” she mused. She paused. “Wait a second, fourteen?! Should you be doing this? You can’t have a license!” 

He jabbed the needle in a bit harder than necessary to silence her. “Show me a single human with a medical degree better at this than I am and maybe I’ll agree. You won’t be able to, so just shut up.” 

Izumi’s brow creased. “I guess I’m just a little concerned that Sakyo has you on payroll for these kinds of things? You’re a child.” 

“Well.” Yuki shrugged, not taking his eyes away from the job at hand. “Rough economy. We all find work where we can.” 

“Preach,” Tsuzuru said. 

The brownie finished sewing the flaps of her skin together and knotted the end of the thread, snipping with a pair of scissors. He bandaged Izumi up and pinned the dressing in place with a cute pink pin. 

“Keep it dry for a day. After, wash around the stitches with water twice a day until I come back to remove them. Understand?” 

Izumi sat up and moved her arm around. “Huh. You _are_ absurdly good at this.” 

“Duh. Carry me over to Minagi.” 

Tsuzuru raised an eyebrow. “You know me?” 

Yuki’s glare was on the poisonous side as Izumi let him sit on her palm to make the transportation easier. “All the Bloodlines in this city are obnoxious and flamboyant and egotistical. You’re no different.” 

“My family's not that bad,” Tsuzuru said. His face went pale as Yuki waved over a second syringe and quickly looked away. 

Izumi combed through his hair with her fingers. “Not good with needles?” 

“I wouldn’t call myself the biggest fan of them, no.” He inhaled sharply at the prick and steadily let himself relax. He still refused to look at his arm when Yuki began stitching. 

“I suppose the Minagi Bloodline is… decently quiet.” Yuki shuddered. “At least you’re not like the Sumeragis.” 

Well, that was a surprise. Izumi knew that most Bloodlines were prideful and bordered on fanaticism no matter the city. Her family had been on the quiet side of Last Name Dignity but that may have been more in part to her father choosing to disappear when she turned 16. 

Izumi didn't think there were magical creature Bloodlines in Japan, now that she thought about it. Only magicians.

She walked to the kitchen. “Yuki, would you like to stay for breakfast? Would your parents be okay with that?” 

The brownie shrugged. “Whatever.”

* * *

Muku refused to let go of his cousin’s arm. “I’m so glad you’re here again. You have no idea how much I m-missed you. All of us missed you.” 

Juza looked at a loss for words. He blinked and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Uh. Sorry.” 

Citron closed the door behind him and took a seat on his bed, watching the two cousins speak to one another. 

“No! Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.” Muku wiped his eyes again. “I’m a real mess, Ju-chan, I’m sorry. I just never, ever thought I would see you again. Gosh, I’m so nervous I can’t think right. Aunty’s going to be so happy to hear from you, _Ku’s_ going to lose it—“ 

“Muku,” Citron spoke up softly. “You cannot do that.” 

“I—“ The apprentice flinched and looked at his mentor. “Huh?” 

“You cannot act as a messenger between Juza and his family. Or anybody else, for that matter,” Citron said. 

Muku inched closer to the wraith. “Why not?” 

“It is not what we Seers do.” 

“What?”

Citron shook his head. "You must not let them know that his spirit is here."

Muku curled his fingers into fists. “That’s _not fair!_ I get to see him but his family can’t know he’s okay?"

"Yes."

"You don’t know how hard Aunty and Uncle and Kumon cried when Ju-chan d-d—“ He struggled. “ _Died_. They were destroyed. You didn’t see that, you don't know how bad it g-got for them!” 

“But I do.” It was one of those rare moments where Citron didn’t have a smile on his face. “I see it everywhere, Muku. I see it all the time. But death is a part of living. Sometimes it is unfair but we _cannot disrupt the process of closure_.” 

“Ku missed school for a month because he couldn’t leave his house!” Muku yelled. “They sold their car because they don’t want to drive anymore, what are you saying! How can you be so cruel?” 

Citron closed his eyes. “Muku. When I was your age, a woman close to me lost her son. His ghost remained and I let her know that. She could not move on after she found out. Everywhere she went, she felt like she could see him. She could not let her son go and eventually spiraled into despair. That fate is crueler than letting them heal.” 

“BUT THAT’S NOT FAIR!” Muku repeated, louder this time. He wiped at his cheeks as the tears dripped down. “Why can I see him but not them? It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not—“ 

Citron held up a hand to silence him. 

He spoke, words firm. “Death is not fair, Muku. If you wish to bear the weight of putting Juza’s existence back into their life and tearing open the scar once more, that is your decision. But know it will only keep the hurt raw. It will fester.” 

“What’s the point of being able to See, then?” Muku asked. 

“We comfort lost souls. We guide those who cannot let go to the next land. We See the future and protect those we can. That is why we See, Muku. To help. Not to act as a bridge." 

Juza swallowed. “Muku. ’S fine. I don’t remember.” 

The younger whipped his head in his direction. “What?” 

“I don’t remember my parents.” Juza shoved his hands into his pockets. “I remember Kumon. I remember you. I don’t remember them. I don’t remember a lot. There’s no point if they’ve gotten over me.” 

“…No,” Muku whispered. “Ju-chan, you don’t have to lie. It’s okay.” 

“’S not a lie.” 

Muku’s lower lip quivered. His face scrunched up. He let out an angry sob and stormed out of Citron’s room, slamming his own shut upon reaching his dorm. Surely throwing himself upon his bed to cry in private. 

Citron dragged a hand over his face. “Thank you for your input.” 

“Nothing to thank.” Juza cleared his throat. “Thanks. For, uh, telling me to leave Muku alone back then. He needed it.” 

“Being able to See past the veil is a gift and a curse. Muku will learn that with time. He is young, the Sight is new to him.” Citron crossed his legs and let his lips curve into that more familiar, more comfortable smile. “Let us discuss you, Juza.” 

“Me?” 

“You are here, yes? Why not move on?” 

Juza hated this. He disliked talking in general but he hated answering probing questions more. “Dunno how.” 

Citron hummed. “Ah. Let me explain myself. Ghosts are here, usually, when they cannot accept their deaths because of regrets. Wraiths,” he pointed to Juza’s talons, “occur when there is a strong grudge. So what is your grudge, Juza?” 

“Can I just go,” he said in monotone. 

Citron laughed loudly. “Humor me, please!” 

He stood there in silence. The quiet stretched longer as neither spoke but at the same time refused to give in. 

Juza broke first. “I don’t remember a lot.” 

Citron tilted his head to the side, urging him to go on.

“Muku. Kumon, too. He’s my, uh, younger brother. They got bullied sometimes.” Juza’s eyes would sear a hole through the floor if he stared any harder. “Guess… Don’t wanna leave ‘em to deal with shit on their own.” 

Citron put a hand on his chest and sighed. “It’s beautiful to witness! Familial love.” 

He rose from the mattress and stepped forward, planting both hands on the wraith’s shoulders. “Juza. You are not their keeper. You are allowed to move on.” 

“Not yet.” Juza inched away from the touch, weirded out by it after going so many months of feeling nothing. “They’re not ready.” 

“I suppose you are not doing harm. But you cannot be here forever, you know.” 

“I know.” 

More silence. 

“I’m gonna go check in on Muku,” Juza said and took his leave, phasing through the door rather than opening it. 

Citron fell back on the mattress and let out a long breath. Truly, he could not recall a time he’d felt so tired. His arms ached along with his head. Hoping that the Coven would remain peaceful when he woke up, he let himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

Izumi sat at the kitchen table and, for the first time since college, tried to get breakfast ready using only magic. Rice was easy enough, she just flicked a finger and poured a few cups of grain and water into the rice cooker and turned it on. Her mother had taught her to always wash rice before cooking it but this was just one of those days she’d ignore that rule. 

Tsuzuru got off of the arm chair eventually and sat across from her. “Director, we need to talk about those corpses.” 

God, no. She didn’t _want_ to. “Do we have to?” 

“You saw the slime they coughed up. Necromancy doesn’t do that. You know exactly what I do.” 

She did. 

“Someone’s been putting anti-magic into those dead bodies,” Tsuzuru hissed. “Someone’s been getting ready to do what that Banri kid did by accident. Someone has been _manipulating_ dead bodies to become weapons.” 

“You’re jumping to conclusions.” 

“It’s the only conclusion to jump to. It can’t be a coincidence.” 

She refused to accept it. “It could be a side effect of Banri’s spell. We don’t know what he did exactly.” 

“If this was the only time we saw anti-magic tar I might believe you. But it’s not.” Tsuzuru’s voice was urgent and unrelenting. “Something is going on. Someone’s pulling strings and we don’t know what for but we do know it’s dangerous.” 

Izumi groaned. “Tsuzuru, we’re a _Coven_. There’s nothing we can do about it and there’s no reason we should. We’re here to protect our students and teach them magic, that’s all. If you have a problem, I recommend taking it up with your dad or the Council, not me.” 

“This goes beyond what we can or can’t do as a Coven, we’re talking about something that’s endangering every magician in this city.” Tsuzuru glanced at Yuki, who sat pleasantly on the couch scrolling through his phone. “And… I guess every magical creature too. The first sample was from a house spirit, after all.” 

She put her face in her hands. “What do you want from me. You wouldn’t be saying this if you didn’t need my stamp of approval for something.” 

“Don’t call Sakyo. I want access to that body in Masumi’s room. I want it moved to my lab.” 

“ _Tsuzuru, you can’t_ —“ 

“Yes, I can.” The Caster folded his hands and refused to break eye contact. “And I can do it a hell of a lot better than anybody working for the Council. Director, _please_. You have to be on my side here, I’m begging you.” 

Her heart felt so heavy in her chest. “Tsuzuru, that’s a dead body. That’s a _person_.I can’t let you do that.” 

“It stopped being just a dead body when it spat on my Barrier and broke it in under ten seconds.” 

Izumi frowned deeply and rubbed her forehead. 

“Fine,” she relented. “Just… fine. I don’t care anymore.” 

Tsuzuru rose from the seat and tapped a knuckle onto the table. “Thank you very much. Now, I’m going to go to my room and sleep on a mattress for the next day. Can you be the one to move the cadaver?” 

“NO! I’M NOT GOING TO TOUCH A DEAD BODY!” 

Yuki looked up. “Dead body?” 

“STAY OUT OF THIS!”

* * *

Banri dropped by that afternoon as promised. It took a while, but the first person to answer the door was that kid who said he went to school with him. 

“Banri!” Sakuya said warmly. “Come in! How was school?” 

“Dunno. Skipped like I said I would.” He kicked his sneakers off and strolled into the living room, where he found that Izumi woman passed out on the couch with a blanket drawn over her. “She still sleeping?” 

“Director had a really rough night. You want something to eat? We’ve got a few fruit snacks left but I need to make a run to the convenience store soon.” 

“Whatever. Where’s Hyodo?” 

Sakuya turned the kettle on. “Muku said his cousin left the Coven when the sun came up. I think he likes to walk around during the day since less people can see him. Matsukawa, ah, he’s the owner of the building, he went to pick up a pack of Red Bull because Director asked him to. I think everyone else is either in their rooms or sleeping, last night was crazy after all.” 

“Huh.” Banri sat down at the table and spread his legs. “So what do you do here?” 

“I learn magic. I’m a Firstborn Witch.” 

“The fuck’s a Firstborn Witch?” 

Sakuya cast an alarmed glance in Director’s way. She didn’t move. 

“Banri, you shouldn’t cuss like that, Director doesn’t like it,” Sakuya said gently. The kettle sang and he poured two cups of water. “Would you like tea or hot chocolate?” 

“Chocolate. You’re not answering my question.” 

“Well, I think it’s just a type of magician. I learn spells but I’m no good at getting a hang of most of them.” Sakuya opened a cabinet door. “Would you like marshmallows with yours?” 

“Thanks. You got a spell or something you can show me?” 

Sakuya hesitated. He rolled a marshmallow over in his fingers. If was small and very soft, so it would be fine, wouldn’t it? He turned around. With one hand, he started to write the Sticky Hands Rune that Kazunari had taught him, and with the other, he tossed the marshmallow high into the air. Sakuya shot the Rune forward and then tugged the marshmallow back into his palm, which it did with surprising strength. 

Banri leaned his chin on his hand. “So parlor tricks, basically.” 

Sakuya felt his cheeks grow hot. “M-Magic is usually lots cooler! I’m just no good, most of what I try out goes way too nuts.” 

He dropped the marshmallow into his cup and handed Banri the other. 

“So what’s she been teaching you here?” Banri asked as he sipped. He made a face. The cocoa was too sweet. How much powder had he put in? 

Sakuya ran through his past few lessons in his head. “Levitation, defensive magic, how to change some things to other things. Oh, we tried water summoning a while back but that…” He cleared his throat. He’d almost _drowned_ poor Tsuzuru. “And Runes, too, but most of them are off limits to me since. You know. Nuts.” 

Banri placed the cup down. “So. Parlor tricks.” 

“No!” 

“You got any books or shit? Stop looking at me like that, I can say shit if I want to.” 

Sakuya squirmed. “Director doesn’t _like_ it.” 

“Jesus, what’s wrong with you? Let me see what you’ve got.” 

“Um…!” Sakuya followed him down the hall. “My room’s the first one on the left, but I don’t have any more texts than what I’ve covered so far. The Director gives me a book on a lesson before we start it but not much else.” 

Banri’s hand froze on the doorknob. He didn’t bother going in. “Are you serious? Fuck, man, that’s so boring. Where are the other books kept then?” 

“The Director’s office, down that way—wait! Banri, stop it!” 

He ignored the Witch, opening the door and going in anyways. The office looked relatively bare. Just a desk, a computer, and bookshelves that lined the walls from the ceiling to the roof. It was more on instinct than anything else, but Banri went for the desk immediately. He rifled through the drawers’ contents. 

“Banri!” Sakuya hissed, not taking a step over the threshold. “Get out of there right now before I wake up the Director!” 

“Don’t be a wet blanket snitch,” he muttered, digging through a few folders that had nothing fun. He went for another drawer and found a pile of permission slips. “Cool. You guys can live here, then?” 

“Banri, I’m not kidding! Get out!” 

Banri took a form and folded it, slipping it into his back pocket. He rolled his eyes and shut the drawer with his knee. “Have you ever broken rules before in your life?” 

Sakuya glanced down the hall when the Director made some noise. But she was simply rolling over and burying her face into a cushion. “Not these rules. C’mon, I won’t tell on you if you just leave right now. I’ll teach you levitation, just…!” 

Banri grabbed Sakuya by his arm and forced him into the office, kicking the door close behind them. “There. Now you’re an accessory to the crime. If you want, just tell her I forced you to. Help me look through these books for something fun.” 

Sakuya’s brow furrowed and he bit his lower lip. The kid looked downright fretful. Banri ruffled his hair because he could, and then crouched down to begin reading through a few of the book spines. 

Sakuya huffed and tried to pat his hair back into order. “How old are you?” 

“Seventeen.” 

“Then I’m older than you, I just turned eighteen. So I have seniority and you should _listen_ to me!” 

Banri gave him a withering look. “Do you think I give a shit about seniority? At all? C’mon, you know you want to.” 

Sakuya wavered. He looked at all of those leather-bound volumes that held so many secrets that he wanted to know, but that he wasn’t ready for yet. It wouldn’t… It wouldn’t hurt to just _look,_ he figured. And it wasn’t like Banri was going to tell the Director what they were up to. He went to the opposite wall and nervously trailed his fingertips across a shelf. 

“Check it.” Banri waved a thick grimoire. “ _Spirit Imitation_. That’s gotta be something.” 

“Banri… you’ve got this weird obsession with death, don’t you?” Sakuya asked. 

He scowled and started to flick through the pages, squinting to read the small print in the dying afternoon light. “Don’t think I get off to it or anything. I spent like two or three weeks trying to learn about ghosts because of Hyodo so I guess it’s just a conditioned reflex at this point.” 

Banri skimmed through a few of the chapter titles before stopping at one that really caught his eye. “Intangibility spell. C’mon, that sounds dope. You gonna try it out or should I?” 

“Neither of us!” 

“Cool, so me then.” Banri cleared his throat. “ _Nullum affectum_.” 

A strange, buzzing sensation ran through his chest, then his legs, then his arms. Something like that numbness one felt before pins and needles. The book in his hands fell to the ground. 

“B-Banri?” Sakuya asked, reaching forward. 

The two boys watched Sakuya’s hand go clear through Banri’s arm. Banri felt nothing. 

“That is metal as fuck,” Banri commented. He took a step back and leaned on the desk, passing right through it. He stood there, just reveling in the absurdity of standing in the middle of something he shouldn’t be able to stand in. “Thaaaat is _fucking_ metal.” 

“How long does it last?” Sakuya asked, bending down and picking up the book. 

“Ten minutes or whatever.” Banri poked his head through the window glass next. Passing through solid objects was oddly thrilling. His mind was already racing with all the misdemeanors he'd be able to accomplish with the spell. “You gonna try it or you gonna pussy out?” 

Sakuya stared down at the page. “If… If it’s only for ten minutes then… What’s the harm, right?” 

“There we go. Who knows, we might find a pair on you after all. Do it.” 

Sakuya put the book on the desk to make sure it wouldn’t fall through his palms like it had for Banri. After a moment of hesitation, he steeled his nerves and quickly repeated the enchantment. 

He looked down at himself. 

“Try walking through the desk,” Banri suggested. 

Sakuya did so and let out a small _eep_ when he passed through the wood and metal embellishments. “Wow! This is amazing!” 

“When it wears off, we have to find a few more spells to try out.” 

“Oh… maybe.” Sakuya knew it wasn’t good to go behind the Director’s back but he was too swept up in the thrill of magic to care too much. “I never thought I could do something—hey, why are you getting taller?” 

Banri blinked. “I… dude, you’re falling.” 

“I’m huh?!” 

Sakuya stepped away from the desk and realized Banri was right. His feet were slowly falling through the wooden floorboards, making his whole body sink like quicksand. 

“Why am I falling?! Why not you?” Sakuya panicked. He struggled, trying to get out of the floor but failing. 

“The fuck? How am I supposed to know! You said your magic was stronger. Are you falling into a basement?” 

“There isn’t a basement!” Sakuya wailed. “Not that I know of!” 

Banri stretched out a hand to try to help him out but, unsurprisingly, his hands just passed through Sakuya entirely. 

“Crap, crap, crap, Banri, help!” 

“How the fuck am I supposed to help you?” 

Sakuya screamed, “GET THE DIRECTOR!” 

And, like the time Banri had accidentally set loose a deer inside of his middle school, he decided for the first time in a very long while to confess to his wrongdoings. Because the spell would wear off in a few minutes, and if Sakuya was _in the dirt_ when that happened, well… Banri could say he was comfortable doing a long list of crimes but murder wasn’t one of them. 

“Director!” he yelled, passing through the wall land running for the living room. “DIRECTOR!” 

Izumi snorted and fell off the couch. “Huh? Huh? What? _Banri?_ What are you doing here?” 

“Sakuya's, fucking headass, going through the floor! The intangibility spell, it’s doing somethin’ to him that isn’t for me, we need your help like _now._ ” 

“Language.” She rubbed her eyes and frowned deeply, like she was processing his words at the slowest pace imaginable. She stood up. “What?” 

Banri stuck his hand through her stomach. Izumi looked at it. 

“Hm.” 

She rubbed her eyes again. She stilled. Something must have clicked. 

“ _YOU BROKE INTO MY OFFICE?_ ” she roared. 

“Now is not the time!” 

“YOU HAVE BEEN IN THIS COVEN FOR LESS THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY STUPID? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DANGEROUS THE SPELLS I HAVE STORED IN THERE CAN BE?” 

Banri took in a deep breath and yelled, “ _SAKUYA IS GOING THROUGH THE FLOOR!_ ” 

Izumi ran right through him. “I’LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER!” 

Banri hurried after her and could only stand aside when she threw the door open and hurled her body towards the boy who was up to his chest in the floorboards. 

“Sakuya, are you okay?” she asked. She spotted the open book on the desk and lunged for it, immediately flipped through for a reverse spell. 

Sakuya looked near tears but at the same time too scared to let them fall. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done it, it’s my fault, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, please don’t let me die!” 

“You’re not _going_ to die,” Izumi spat. “But I am going to KILL you when I get you out of this mess, do you hear me?” 

“Yes, b-but—“ Sakuya screamed when he _dropped_ a few more inches. He was to his neck now and clawing at the ground with no effect. “DIRECTOR!” 

“Don’t work yourself up, you are _not_ going to die, not if I have anything to say about it.” 

But she was lying to herself, she was lying straight through her teeth. There wasn’t a reversal spell, and even if there had been, this book was well past her abilities. God, think, think… she had to _think_. 

“Director!” Sakuya screeched, holding his chin high as he sank further and further. 

“Get Itaru, now!” she yelled at Banri. 

“Who?” 

“THE FREELOADING GOAT BOY DOWN THE HALL!” 

“Right.” The boy disappeared. Izumi shut the book and tried to cup her hands around Sakuya’s face despite feeling nothing there. “Listen to me, kiddo, you’re going to be fine. This isn’t supposed to happen with intangibility spells, but just stay calm. We’re going to come get you.” 

The tears finally overflowed. “Director, I’m really, really scared of confined spaces. I don’t want to be buried alive.” 

“This isn’t the time for a clever pun but you dug your own grave on this one.” Izumi smiled gently as Sakuya let out a despairing chuckle at that. “You’re going to be okay, I swear on my life. On my honor as a Tachibana Witch, you understand?” 

“I believe you.” To his nose now and his words were muffled. His eyes shone wet with tears. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I’m sure I did something just like this when I was a little younger than you.” 

Forehead. Only his hair was there now. Izumi clasped her hands together and shot up a quick prayer, despite not being religious to any extent but needing to cover every base to insure that Sakuya would be okay. 

“I thought I told you not to bother me for the rest of the day,” Itaru said, leaning on the doorway. “What is it now?” 

She looked up at him. She pointed to the ground. “Sakuya.” 

“Have you lost it finally? I figured it would happen sooner or later but this seems early.” 

“Sakuya did an Intangibility spell and sank through the floor.” 

Itaru’s eyebrows raised and his shoulders lit on fire. Izumi was steadily beginning to learn that that happened whenever the demon got upset or surprised. He looked at the bit of floor she was pointing out. 

“We need to save him,” Itaru said finally. “He has too much talent to be left for dead.” 

“Good to know we're on the same page.” 

Itaru scowled. “Let me guess. You want me to destroy the flooring.” 

Izumi closed her eyes, already envisioning the massive carpenter bill. “Yes.” 

Itaru cracked his fingers and waved her aside. “Move. You don’t want to get caught in this.” 

She backed away and pressed against a shelf. A ring of fire appeared, much like the ones that did whenever Itaru summoned something from thin air. The demon let out a heavy grunt and made a fist. The ring of fire lowered and seared the floorboards, filling the air with the smell of burning wood. Lower and lower, the ring went, beginning to spin furiously. 

Itaru opened his fist and the flames burst. 

When the heat died out, Izumi peered down the newly created hole. Sakuya was not at the bottom, but something else was. 

“What is that,” she said flatly to the sheet of metal a foot beneath where she stood. 

Itaru walked forward and reached down to knock his knuckles against it. It rang hollow. 

“There’s a room underneath it,” he said. “Basement?” 

“We don’t have a basement.” 

Itaru crossed his arms. “Turns out you do. Surprise."

* * *

It was pitch black underground. Sakuya drew his knees to his chest and buried his face in them. He might not have been able to feel the dirt and stone that surrounded him on all sides, but he could feel himself. He could feel his jeans which he rubbed his cheek against to try to calm down. 

He _hated_ tight enclosures. Knowing he was, for all intents and purposes, buried made him want to vomit. 

So he thought instead of nice things. 

He thought of a wide, grassy field with dandelion and flowers. Maybe a few trees to offer shade. By a river, where he could take his shoes off and sink his feet into. It would be nice if they could all take a day off soon and have a picnic. 

He could sit by the stream and Masumi would be there next to him, even if the younger boy was wearing that bored face. Banri would be on his other side. And Itaru… he didn’t seem to be the type to like the outdoors or the sun, but this was Sakuya’s imagination so he’d ignore that. Itaru would sit on the picnic blanket holding his Nintendo Switch and not paying mind to anyone. Juza would sit next to him, also in the shade. Matsukawa would man the barbecue despite burning all of the patties and hot dogs. The Director would stand behind him and lament about the char. 

Tsuzuru, Kazunari, Citron, and Misumi would play volleyball with a poorly set up net. Muku would be the referee. 

He wondered if anyone in the Coven knew how to play the guitar. Tenma looked like he could, maybe. Tenma would play the guitar and they would all sit around to listen and enjoy it. 

Like a family. 

Sakuya smiled to himself a little bit. 

Stupid. He was stupid. But it was his own thoughts so it was fine. 

His skin prickled like he was getting pricked everywhere with a million tiny needles. He groaned and curled up tighter. This wasn’t good. 

_Someone, please save me._

Feeling was coming back. Sakuya took in a deep, deep breath and held it. 

A few seconds passed before he realized that he felt _ground_ underneath his butt. He experimentally waved his hands. Open space? Not… dirt? He stood up for a moment and took a few steps forward, hands outstretched. He touched a cold wall. 

He was in a room. 

Sakuya swallowed nervously and brought his palms together to summon a ball of fire. It didn’t offer much light, but it was better than being in the dark. The wall he was at was completely made of gray stone. The room… looked relatively bare except for a few bookshelves and a wooden table. He touched it and made a face. The wood was soft with rot and age. 

What _was_ this place? He leaned down and touched his fingers to the strange circle of Runes carved onto the floor. It looked kind of like Misumi’s. It was as big as two dorms combined; spacey but far from the training room in size. He couldn’t see any lightbulbs on the ceiling and the thick layer of dust made it clear that that it’d been some time since anyone else had been in there. 

He reached for the small leather book on the table. With his left hand, he kept the fire going. With the right, he opened the crisp, yellowing pages that were barely intact due to age and the unfortunate dank environment. 

_Hakkaku Watanabe_. 

A journal? 

More from a reflexive respect for privacy than anything else, Sakuya shut the book and put it back where he’d found it. Priorities. He had to find a door. There were stone stairs that led up to a trapdoor on the ceiling with an iron handle. 

Sakuya climbed up and tried it. Locked, of course. He took another step up and pressed his back and shoulder against it, straining against whatever rusted lock was holding it down. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or what, but he could have sworn he heard someone on the other side. 

He took in a deep breath and extinguished his fire. With both hands against the trap door, along with a shoulder and the side of his head, he put strength into his legs and surged up. 

A part of the door splintered before the trapdoor opened with a BANG. 

Tenma let out a hysterical scream and covered himself with a towel. “WHAT THE _FUCK!_ ” 

Sakuya looked around. Hot steam from the ready bath started making him sweat. He was in… the bathroom? 

A trap door in the bathroom floor. It explained why it was so uncomfortably moist in the room. And it was probably hidden amongst the tiles.

“Sorry, Tenma!” Sakuya said quickly as he climbed out. He threw the door to the bathroom open. 

“ _DO YOU MIND? I DON’T HAVE CLOTHES ON!”_ Tenma roared. 

“Put some on, then!” Sakuya yelled as he ran out. “Director! Director, there’s a hidden room! It’s in the bathroom! Come quick!” 

“WAIT, NO! _DON’T!_ ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the only good running joke in this fic is catholic!tsuzuru
> 
> There was a part of me that wasn't sure if making Yuki 12 inches tall was a good idea. So I changed the original draft. Then, after a few days of thinking it over, I realized that I would die if I didn't make Yuki 12 inches tall so I went ahead and did it anyways.
> 
> also hahahahahaha 69690 words nice


	13. The Director’s Farm Field For The Disciplining of Delinquent Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The basement holds a lot of mysteries

Izumi hugged Sakuya so tightly, he had trouble breathing right. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m _so_ glad. You must have been scared out of your wits, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you any sooner.” 

He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the comfort and physical contact. 

Then Izumi tore herself away and began shaking him. “You little BRAT, do you have any idea how dangerous what you did was? You could have gotten yourself killed! Why do you think I keep those books away from you, huh? Did you even think about what you were going to do! Did you have a singular thought running through your head? I’m so upset with you right now I don’t even know what to say!” 

He ducked his head. “Sorry.” 

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “You were already scared so I think that’s a portion of your punishment. Three days without magic, Sakuya. I better not see you practicing even a levitation for the next seventy-two hours, understand me?” 

He nodded. “Yes.” 

“Good.” Izumi took in a deep breath to calm herself down and then whirled to face Banri. “ _AND YOU!_ ” 

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Your tone changed fast. Favoritism much?” 

“This is the second time you’ve almost gotten Sakuya killed!” 

Banri shrugged. “My bad.” 

“Your b—?!” Izumi closed her eyes. “How do I punish you. I don’t know you well enough yet to know what would be a proper punishment.” 

Banri sneered. “Good luck trying.” 

Ah. He was one of those. The rebellious teen that didn’t listen to besmirches, couldn’t be put down by anything. That was a nuisance. Masumi could be punished by being sent to his room to be on his own for a while Sakuya could be punished by taking away his right to practice magic. Tenma would get a heaping pile of vegetables with his dinner and not be allowed to leave the table until he finished them all. Muku was a sweetheart who never needed punishing, but if it came to it, she knew all she had to do was take away his shelf of manga for a week. 

But Banri? Oh, she’d have to consult a few internet forums to find out a way to punish him. 

“Go home, Banri,” Izumi said finally. “I’ll deal with you tomorrow. I expect you here bright and early.” 

Banri let out a rude _ugh_ sound. “I’m seventeen. I don’t _do_ bright and early.” 

“You will if you want to learn magic properly. Expect a decent punishment delivered as well.” Izumi hugged Sakuya tightly one more time. “I’m still mad at you, I’m just happy you’re alive.” 

“It’s okay, I’m happy I’m alive too,” Sakuya said, hugging her back. “I’m sorry. I won’t go into your office again. It was a really bad lapse of judgement on my part.” 

Izumi sighed and just looked at him for a moment. With his bright eyes and soft, pudgy cheeks that still had a bit of baby fat to them. She pinched them. “How can you be such a dummy and so mature at the same time?” 

He chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, I guess I’m just heavily impacted by the peers I choose to surround myself with.” 

“ _Clearly_.” 

Banri tapped his foot on the floor. “Am I just chopped liver? Hello, I’m here too.” 

“Are you? Go home,” Izumi said flatly and flicked a finger on his forehead. 

“Can I stay for dinner, at least? I’m starving.” 

Izumi told herself to say no. “Yes.” Damn it.

* * *

“Curry again?” Tsuzuru complained as he dipped into the kitchen. “God, how can you expect us to eat this every night?” 

Masumi looked up. “I could eat your curry every day for the rest of my life.” 

Banri stared at the Hunter and jabbed a thumb in his direction as he turned to Tenma. “The fuck is his deal?” 

“Don’t ask,” Tenma muttered. 

Tsuzuru grabbed his plate and moved to go to the lab. 

“Hold on!” Izumi chided, smacking a ladle on the side of the pot to get his attention. “Eat your meals _at the table_ , please, not in your lab.” 

“But I’m busy.” 

“And I don’t care. You will eat at the table or not at all.” 

Tsuzuru tilted his head back and groaned. Matsukawa entered the kitchen, sopping wet. He set down the wholesale pack of Red Bull cans and leaned back to straighten the cricks in his back. 

“Boy, oh boy, it’s really pouring out there!” he said cheerfully and wiped his glasses. He put them back on and stared at Banri. “Hm. You’re not familiar.” 

“I’m new,” Banri said simply, raising a spoonful of curry rice to his mouth. 

“That’s just dandy!” Matsukawa placed a slightly wet envelope on the table. “Director, you have a letter from the Council.” 

Tsuzuru immediately spat, “Motherf—“ He drowned the end of the word out in a cough. 

Tenma clicked his tongue and scowled. “Ugh.” 

Banri leaned over. “Council? What Council?” 

“A group of asshats—“ Izumi flicked his head. “OW. _Jerks_ that think they own the entire city and every magician living in it. Talk about a complete circle jerk of—OW! _CIRCLE JERK ISN’T EVEN A SWEAR!_ ” 

“What’s a circle jerk?” Muku asked with wide eyes. 

Izumi slammed a raw carrot on the table by Tenma’s hand. “Eat this as your punishment. This is why we don’t use coarse language under this roof, Tenma!” 

He bit on the carrot solemnly. 

Tsuzuru snatched the envelope. “Mind if I take a look?” 

Citron quietly placed a glass of water beside Tenma. 

Izumi snatched it back. “Not your name on the address field, Minagi. Keep your hands to your dinner and off my mail." 

She tore the flap open and removed the letter. Well, it wasn’t so much a letter as a card. Three cards, one addressed to her, one for Sakuya, and one for Muku. She looked puzzled as she started reading her own. “Uh… It says I’m cordially invited to Mayor Reni’s Bi-Annual Ball on the twentieth of March?” 

Tenma choked on his carrot and retched in an effort to clear his airway. Misumi and Banri both slapped his back. The Sumeragi heir reached for the glass of water Citron had prepared for him. 

Tsuzuru shot out of his chair and grabbed the card from Izumi’s hands. “ _Fuck_ you, no it doesn’t.” 

“DO I NEED TO ESTABLISH A SWEAR JAR?” Izumi reached for a mug and slammed it on the kitchen counter. “You know what? Any time someone under eighteen swears, or someone swears in front of minors, you’re dropping a coin in here. Everyone understand?” 

“I’m _poor_ ,” Tsuzuru said bitterly. He opened the card and stared at the words written in pretty cursive. He threw it at Tenma to see next. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. I hate it here. I hate it here so _, so much_.” He picked up his dinner plate and stormed to his lab. 

“Hey! What did I just say about eating—?” 

“SHOVE IT!” Tsuzuru yelled and slammed the door shut. 

Izumi stared at it. She couldn’t remember a time Tsuzuru looked _genuinely_ angry. Pissed off, tired, a little feather-ruffled, sure. But really angry? Never. She cleared her throat and turned back to the dinner table where everyone was looking at her. 

“Keep eating,” she said briskly. 

Tenma closed the card and put it down, staring into the distance. His lips were drawn into a thin white line. “May I please be excuse from the table?” 

“Uh… you didn’t finish your c—“ 

He crammed the vegetable into his mouth and rose from his seat. He stomped towards his dorm room. 

“What the heeeeeee… heck was that,” Banri said flatly. 

Izumi sighed. “Not sure.” She glanced to Matsukawa. “You have any clue?” 

He smiled apologetically. “I do. Perhaps we need to discuss this in private?” 

“Right. My office. You guys keep eating. Banri, you can leave after you finish.” 

She and Matsukawa went to the office. He looked at the hole in the ground but thankfully didn’t question it. They sat on opposite sides of the desk. 

“So what was that about?” Izumi asked. 

“You already know the issues the Council has regarding the Bloodlines.” 

“It’s just a matter of pride, isn’t it?” 

Matsukawa nodded. “Unfortunately. While most of the time, it’s a back and forth between the Council establishing laws and issuing search warrants of houses and Bloodlines refusing to comply or just flat-out ignoring their authority, there is one matter that gets under the skins of Bloodlines.” 

She held up the card. “This ball?” 

“It’s a party that Mayor Reni holds twice a year. Ignoring the fact that it’s exorbitant and fancy and allegedly a _very fun party_ , it’s also the one event that draws in several prominent magicians across the entire country to our small city. It is THE social event for magicians here.” 

Izumi felt a laugh bubble in her stomach. “…And the, uh, rebellious Bloodlines aren’t invited?” 

“They are not.” 

She covered her face with her hands. _Get a grip on yourself_. “The Minagis and the Sumeragis aren’t invited?” 

“Along with a few others.” 

Izumi couldn’t help it. She started laughing so hard she was choking on her own spit. She pounded the desk’s surface with her fist and wheezed. 

Tsuzuru kicked the wall from the other side. “SHUT UP!” 

That only made her laugh harder.

* * *

“Are you still mad?” Izumi asked as Tsuzuru swept into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. The clock had just hit 2 AM but after sleeping in for most of the day, it looked like neither of them could go to bed. 

He didn’t speak to her. He only took out a can of condensed milk (they needed to stop buying that, he was going to give himself a heart attack), popped open the top, and _drank_ the syrupy cream like it was water. 

“You’re still mad at me,” she surmised. She giggled and tapped the end of her pen. “It’s not my fault I got invited. You know that, right? Like, you know I didn’t go behind your back and grovel at the feet of the Council for an invitation to spite you? Because you’re acting like I am.” 

To her, the party was kind of like being back in high school. Two cliques that disliked one another would try to out-do each other with the best, coolest house parties, and make it a point to invite nobody from the opposing group. It was so juvenile that it bordered on comedic. Upper society, high school… when you broke it down, there was hardly a difference between the two. 

Tsuzuru wiped his mouth of a drop of condensed milk and finally spoke. “There’s a Caster who lives in the Miyazaki prefecture. His name’s Zen Kuryu. He published more than fourteen grimoires filled with Rune sequences he made up by himself. He’s regarded as one, if not _the,_ genius of this era and he comes to Mayor Reni’s party _every time_. Arrives day of and leaves right after for the airport. My father’s invited him to stay with us for a night five years in a row. And five years in a row, he got a rejection.” 

Izumi folded her hands together and let the boy finish his monologue. 

He rubbed his eye. Oh my god, was Tsuzuru _crying?_ “You’ve lived in this city for less than two months. And now you get to meet a man I spent the majority of my developmental years idolizing when I can’t? That’s… That’s just shitty, Director. And pardon me for not caring if this is misdirected rage. I’m just really, really upset.” 

Izumi handed him the card. “When I planned this conversation in my head, I wanted to draw it out for a bit longer. But… I also really don’t want to see you cry since you’re a pretty swell kid. Flip to the back.” 

Tsuzuru winced. “Don’t rub it in. Don’t be that much of a sadist.” 

“Hello? Flip it, before I punch you.” 

Tsuzuru flipped the card and stared at the pretty script. He swallowed. “You’re kidding, right? If this is a joke, I’m not going to forgive you. Say psyche now.” 

“Not a joke.” 

Tsuzuru’s chin wrinkled. He traced the _Plus One Permitted_ with his thumb. 

“For real?” he asked quietly, sounding for a moment very much like a teenager instead of the tired, turned-to-adult-too-quick man he usually was. “Are you serious?” 

Izumi gave a jazz-hands. “Can’t show up to a major shindig without a date, right? Wear something nice.” 

Tsuzuru took two strides forward and threw his arms arms around his Director. “Thank you. Thank you so much. God, mom’s going to lose her mind when I tell her.”

* * *

The next morning, after getting nowhere close to as much sleep as she should have, Izumi, Citron, and Matsukawa were in the bathroom. 

She dug her hands into the tile painted red and heaved it open. The dark stairwell leading down gritted her. 

“Flashlight, please,” she said tersely. 

Matsukawa handed it to her and she turned it on. According to Matsukawa, he hadn’t known about the dorm building’s hidden basement either. And they would have never found out about it if it hadn’t been for Sakuya’s accidental trip down under. But if there was a room with “shelves filled with books” like the boy had said, it was necessary for them to investigate. At the very least, before one of the boys went down there behind her back. 

Izumi shuddered as she descended the stone stairwell. The room smelled musty and _rotten_. Only expected, really, seeing as how it had an entrance located somewhere that would be consistently humid. 

“You got the inventory list?” she called over her shoulder to the manager. 

“Let’s hope some of the lost grimoires are here,” Matsukawa replied. 

The basement was exactly how Sakuya had described it to be. A small enclosure with a wooden desk and chair, lined with shelves. Really, with the walls of solid stone it was more of a panic room than a basement. She crouched down to inspect the carved circle of Runes as Citron placed and lit several candles around to offer light. 

Matsukawa crouched beside her. “Do you recognize any of them?” 

“Not one,” she said. The Runes were as foreign as another language. Tsuzuru would understand them better than she could, but Izumi didn’t want a single person besides the necessary down here. At least, not for now. 

She got up and walked towards the shelves. 

“Mark off _Summoning for Beginners_ ,” she told Matsukawa. “And _A Study of Dragons, Entropy Explained, A Review of Motion With Runes, Potions For the Advanced Brewery._ ” 

“Are _all_ of the lost books in here?” Matsukawa asked. 

“Maybe.” 

Citron picked up the diary on the desk. “Who is Hakkaku?” 

“One of the Founders of Mankai Coven,” Matsukawa said. 

Citron hummed in reply. He opened the worn leather cover and began reading. 

“Oh, no,” Izumi whispered and removed a purple bound grimoire. “ _A Review of Black Magic_. God damn it all, this shouldn’t be here. Was this a hoarding ground for illegal tomes?” 

Matsukawa stiffened. “We need to hand that book into the Council.” 

“We’ll keep it locked for now.” She placed the book on the table and continued her cataloging. “Mark off _Magician Textiles,_ _Medicine Witch,_ and _Imbuing of Guilt_.” 

Matsukawa checked the list. 

Citron cleared his throat. “Director… Come look at these writings.” 

Izumi walked over and took the journal. She had to squint in the dim lighting but she could barely make out the kanji written with a shaky hand. 

_January 12th_

_Misumi visited again. His parents have been filling the child’s head with nothing but nonsense about power and supremacy. I told the boy to cast them aside and join the Coven instead, but he refused with a smile well beyond his years. I’m concerned for what my daughter and her husband has molded him to become. It breaks my heart to see him like this._

_The studies of the Crown have gotten to a point where I am in fear of it being a nuisance rather than a benefit. Yukio has not slept in days, only studying where to find the parts. The Coven has turned rather from a school to a front for our misdemeanors behind the backs of the Council. I only pray for our search to end soon._

_Today, the weather was cloudy. There was no new snow, but rather a gray sky that holds promise for sun soon._

Izumi swallowed, throat dry. 

“Could it be our Misumi?” Citron murmured. “I could not read it all but I saw his name.” 

“I want to say no, Citron… but how many magicians with the name Misumi could there be?” she replied softly and shut the journal. The words were something she could pore over later. Now, in the basement, was not the time. 

Misumi had told them he could not remember a lick of his past prior to five years ago and that had been the truth. But his name was in this journal. If Izumi could track the lineage through the words used, he was the grandson of this Hakkaku person and relevant enough to be mentioned. Crown? What Crown? His _mother and his father_ molding him to be something? 

The kid used black magic. 

Izumi shook her head of the thoughts and returned to the shelf. The journal was for _later_. 

“Mark it off,” she said quietly to Matsukawa. “ _A Review of Crystal Transfigurations. Fourteen Rune Sequences for the Beginning Caster. A Hunt for Legends._ ”

* * *

“Yo,” Banri said when Izumi opened the door. “So what’s the punishment. Do your worst. Well, not your _worst_ because if it’s caning I’m gonna call the police but anything besides that.” 

Izumi handed him a hoe. 

The boy stared at it. “Huh?” 

“Follow me to the backyard,” she said brightly. 

The holes in the ground from Misumi’s spell had been re-filled with dirt. But the flowerbeds had all been dug up, leaving the enclosure looking very barren. Izumi picked up a second hoe and put her fists on her hips. 

“We’re going to start a vegetable garden,” she said. 

“ _Huh?_ ” 

“I looked on a few websites about how to discipline teenaged boys who don’t really get affected by consequences.” She put a finger to his chest. “That would be you. There was this fantastic article posted by a man who lives in Switzerland about how whenever his son acts up, they work together in the fields to strengthen their bond. And something something about physical labor being a reward for a bored soul.” 

Banri rolled his eyes. “What, you took a semester of psychology in college too? This is stupid.” 

“We either work on this field together to make some delicious vegetables, or you’re banned from entering the Coven from now on,” Izumi said. 

Banri made a face and started tilling the earth. “This proves nothing.” 

“Put your back into it, I’m not paying you to be a lazy bum.” 

“You’re not paying me at all!” 

Misumi peered around the sliding glass door. “Ooh, Banri’s here! What are you guys doing?” 

“Farming!” Izumi called. 

“Fun! Can I help?” 

“Sure, kiddo. Grab a hoe and get to work.” 

Banri snickered. “That’s what she said." 

“Yaaaaay!” Misumi sang. “I get to work with a hoe!” 

“ _That’s what she said_.” 

“Shut up, Banri.” 

“Kazu was telling me about gardening with his brothers,” Misumi said conversationally as he began plowing. 

Izumi wiped her forehead. “Oh? Kazunari farms? He doesn’t look the type.” 

“Yeah! Something about bros before hoes. I didn’t really get it, he talks a lot and most of it goes over my head but Kazu’s still cool!” 

Banri choked on his tongue. “He wasn’t talking about gardening, dude." 

Izumi shushed him and ruffled Misumi’s hair. “You wanna invite Kazunari to come over tomorrow night? I think I’m gonna try out a new curry recipe. Tell him he can sleep over as long as the two of you keep quiet.” 

Misumi grinned. “Really? That’s awesome!” 

She hesitated. “In return… could you help us out with a favor, Misumi?” 

“Hm? What is it?” 

Izumi pressed her lips together. “You know that room Sakuya found yesterday?” 

“Uh huh!” 

“Matsukawa and I…” She was suddenly aware that Banri had stopped digging and was listening in on the conversation. “Well, we figured you should take a look down there. You’re a bright kid, maybe you’ll see something we don’t.” 

Misumi glowed at the praise. “Sure!” 

Izumi dropped her hoe and wiped her hands on her jeans. “I”m going to go get us some lemonade. You two keep working, alright?” She disappeared into the dorms. 

Banri leaned forward. “Yo. You’re the guy who made those spikes come out of the ground, right? When the zombies attacked?” 

Misumi grinned. “I think so. Were the spikes in the shape of triangles?” 

“Teach me how to do that.” 

“Nope!” 

Banri frowned. “The fuck? Why?” 

“That’s a hundred yen for the swear jar!” Misumi said in sing-song and continued tilling, humming a ditty under his breath. 

“Dude, teach me how to do the spike shit, it looks cool.” 

“Another hundred!” 

“ _Dude_.” 

Misumi stopped his work and looked at Banri. He sighed and smiled, albeit smaller. “Director says I’m not allowed to use black magic unless things are dangerous and I have no other choices. So I don’t think she’d be happy with me teaching you! I hope that doesn’t make you mad.” 

Banri raised an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Because black magic is _bad_.” 

“Why?” 

Misumi stilled. He furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure. We can probably ask her! Or Tsuzuru, he’s teaches me a lot of things.”

* * *

The fieldwork lasted for two hours before Izumi finally told them they were finished for the day. They’d made a few rows soon to be planted on. 

“Can I trust you not to set anything on fire for a few hours while I go grocery shopping?” Izumi asked. 

“You don’t trust me?” 

She gave Banri a very long and pointed look. 

“Valid. I’ll be chill and keep my hands off magic.” 

“Okay.” She gave him a punch on his shoulder. “I’m going out on a limb and trusting you with this, Banri. No unsupervised magic, you got it? You can either go home or sit in on Citron and Muku’s lessons since… I guess you’ll be able to do Seer magic too eventually.” 

“You got it.” 

Banri waited for her to shut the front door behind her before he split down the hall. He knocked on the door Misumi had told him was Tsuzuru’s lab “which he’s in most of the day, so he should definitely be there!” 

“DON’T COME IN!” someone inside yelled. 

There was shuffling, panicked muttering, and rustling. 

Tsuzuru opened the door, looking like a flat mess. His hair was facing every which way and his eyes were bloodshot. 

“Can I help you?” he asked. “You’re the guy who summoned the undead, huh.” 

“That would be me. Can I come in?” 

Tsuzuru stiffened. “I’d prefer not. You wanna talk in the kitchen or something?” 

Banri shrugged. “Nah. Not that big of a deal. The, uh, Misumi guy. He told me to ask you why black magic is bad.” 

Tsuzuru wrinkled his nose. “Listen. The Director’s giving you a pass for that first stunt because she thinks you were uneducated and spitting your talent without knowing how to channel it properly. I’m willing to ignore my overwhelming desire to throw you onto the streets and never talk to you again because she’s willing to be your advocate. _Keep your hands off of black magic_.” 

“Why?” 

“Are you _stupid?_ It’s black magic.” 

Banri rolled his eyes. “Okay, but can someone explain to me why black magic is bad? What’s the difference between regular magic and black magic?” 

Tsuzuru shuddered and stepped aside. “Maybe you should come in. Don’t touch anything but I need my whiteboard to explain.” 

“Cool.” 

Banri walked inside the lab. It was just an empty dorm room but without the bed. Instead, there were just several long tables inside, every surface piled high with test tubes and scattered sheets of paper. It smelled like formaldehyde. 

“Whatever you do, don’t touch the white sheet,” Tsuzuru said firmly. 

Banri looked at the white sheet on the table against the wall that hid something box-shaped from view. He wanted to touch it. 

“Don’t.” 

“Fuck you, whatever. Just tell me, Christ.” 

Tsuzuru uncapped an Expo marker and began drawing. “Let me ask you this. Why do you think we’re allowed to own knives and baseball bats even though they can be used as weapons?” 

“…Because they serve other purposes?” 

“Bingo. That's normal magic.” He drew a cartoonish bomb. “And why are we as civilians not allowed to own incendiary devices or weapons of mass destruction?” 

“Speak for yourself. Your flat ass might not be a weapon of mass destruction but mine sure is. Uh. Because they’re dangerous?” 

Tsuzuru nodded. “And because they serve no other purpose than to hurt other people. Black magic is separated into three categories. Non-autonomous, violent, sacrificial. Anything that threatens a person’s ability to function of their own accord—memory magic, mind control magic, even influence magic. Or spells that are for violent purposes, like,” here he gave Banri a poisonous glower, “dead raising, assault spells.” 

Banri leaned against a table and let the words sink in. “Sacrificial?” 

“Higher level summoning, higher level alchemy, higher level transfiguration.” Tsuzuru shuddered. “Human lives were sacrificed tons to demons before stricter laws were put in place. Some magicians would trade in body parts for alchemic or transfigurative reasons. Basically… all of that nasty business had people dying in the droves for sought out parts. Banned, for good reason.” 

“Huh.” Banri inspected his nails. “So the only reason why black magic is illegal is because people are afraid it’s going to be used for the wrong reasons?” 

Tsuzuru winced. “Banri, black magic can _only_ be used for the wrong reasons ninety-percent of the time. I’d say a hundred, but Director thinks assault spells used in defense are excusable. We agree to disagree on those terms.” 

“So black magic’s illegal. Why do they still teach it?” 

“We _don’t_. Black magic grimoires and papers were collected en masse a century or two ago and destroyed. Sure, maybe a bad egg has a few collected and stored somewhere but you won’t be learning any here. It's kind of how there are bad eggs in the world who make homemade explosives.” Tsuzuru capped his marker. “Now go away, I’m working.” 

Banri sighed and stood up straight. “Alright. I’m out.” 

He walked out of the lab and put his hands in his pockets, slowing his gait down to just a stroll. 

Banri had work to do, it seemed.

* * *

“Do you recognize this room, Misumi?” Izumi asked. 

The young Witch turned around slowly in the dim light of the basement. He tilted his head to the side. “Um. I don’t think so.” 

She held up Hakkaku’s journal. “Do you… do you know who Hakkaku is?” 

Misumi shook his head. “No. I’m sorry.” 

Izumi nodded. He didn’t remember. Maybe it was a little presumptuous to think that he would know anything about this room. She hadn’t had a chance to read all of the entries, but in the handful she _had_ read over, Misumi’s name had come up quite a bit. But in that doting way a grandfather talked about his grandchild. “He’s gotten taller,” “I wonder if he’s eating enough,” “I look forward to seeing the young man he’ll turn into.” Misumi must have been very young. Hakkaku never mentioned his parents by name, just “my daughter” or “my daughter’s husband” tossed around there. 

Every so often, a mention of Misumi learning black magic and Hakkaku’s displeasure at that came up. 

A lot of his journal entries, the earlier ones, talked solely about the weather. The “Crown” also made an appearance each few pages but it was still vague. From what Izumi had read, it was something that the Coven founders had been looking into for some reason and trying to locate. 

Misumi kneeled on the stone floor and traced the summoning circle with his finger. 

“This looks a little familiar,” the boy said softly. “I don’t know where I’ve seen it before, though. It’s different from what I used to summon Itaru.” 

She patted his head. “It’s okay, kiddo. Don’t beat yourself up over it, I just wanted you to take a look around.” 

Misumi was quiet, staring at the Runes. He looked up. “Director, am I in trouble?” 

“No, no, of course not.” 

“Do you wanna know what some of these Runes are?” he asked, and gestured for her to crouch beside him. 

Misumi pointed to one on the outer edge. “This one is for Transport. I think that’s the purpose. This isn’t a summoning circle, um… I think it’s a teleport circle?” 

“A teleport circle?” She’d never heard of such a thing. 

“Uh huh. Old Witch families have these in their homes a lot of the time. So that they can have easy access to one another even if they live far away.” Misumi’s voice had gone a little scratchier, a little hesitant and. And scared. 

“Misumi, how do you know that?” she asked. 

He shocked his head. “I don’t know. I think you should… I dunno. It’s like a door. I don’t know where it goes, but I think you should scratch it out.” He laughed but it sounded forced. “We don’t want a stranger coming!” 

Izumi put a hand on his arm and felt her stomach fall when he inched away from her touch. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. No one’s going to come in. I doubt this room’s been touched for a decade or two.” 

Misumi nodded and stood up. He wouldn’t look at her. “I don’t like it here. Can we leave?” 

“Are you _sure_ you don’t recognize anything?” 

His actions were giving her some doubt. 

Misumi shuffled his feet. 

Izumi pressed harder. “ _Misumi_. I need you to tell me the truth.” 

“I don’t know this room,” he said finally, voice small. He nudged the center of the summoning circle, where a triangle was etched into the stone. “That’s…” 

“What Rune?” Izumi asked. She didn’t know any Rune that was just a singular triangle. 

Misumi rubbed his eye with his knuckle. “It’s not a Rune. But I like it.” 

Izumi smiled. “You like triangles, don’t you?” 

“My name’s Misumi,” the Witch told her. He turned back to the stairs. “It means triangle.” 

Izumi sat in the dark room by herself. It did, didn’t it? 

She couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty upon climbing out of the basement and seeing that Misumi looked… _out_ of it. He exuded that skittish energy again, inexplicable anxiety coming off of him in waves. 

“You don’t have to go back down there,” she said. “I’m sorry, Misumi. I shouldn’t have made you do that.” 

“It’s okay, Director! I know you didn't wanna make me feel bad,” he told her. He tilted his head back and squinted at the bathroom’s lights. “I think it’s good I don’t remember a lot. I dunno how to explain it but I think I’m happier now than I have been in a long time.” 

“Why don’t you go grab a snack and head to bed?” she told him. 

Misumi nodded. “Okay."

* * *

Izumi slammed open Tsuzuru’s door. 

The Caster let out a shriek, nearly dropping the Erlenmeyer flask in hand. “HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF KNOCKING?” 

“Promise you’re not going to get mad at me,” she said immediately. “Right now. Promise.” 

Tsuzuru placed the flask down. “I’m not going to promise that. What did you do.” 

“It’s not what I _did,_ exactly, it’s more like what we’re _going to do_.” 

Tsuzuru groaned. “Just tell me.” 

“I think we need to find out who Misumi’s parents are. He’s not a Firstborn, we already know that much.” 

His eyebrows raised. “Weren’t you the one preaching about how that’s his truth to accept, and if he doesn’t want to, then it’s not our right to pry?” 

Izumi thought about every red flag raised in the journal entries. “Let’s call it a matter of being prepared for the worst. Hakkaku Watanabe shows up in older versions of the Purple Pages but his daughter’s name is unlisted.” 

“Well, unsurprising. The names of offspring aren’t included in there unless they take over as the family head or have kids of their own.” Tsuzuru picked up a stack of paper and tried to straighten it. “If she married into another name, we won’t know it.” 

“The Purple Pages don’t have children names but the Council’s files should.” 

He let out a laugh. “Ha! Good luck trying to ask Reni for access to _those_.” 

Izumi took a step closer and whispered, “Who said I’m going to ask?” 

The Caster stared at her. He rubbed his forehead and put the papers back down. He reached for his wallet and took out some money, putting it in her hand. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Trying to bribe you not to do what you’re thinking of doing.” 

Izumi shoved the cash back into his palm. “We’re breaking into the Council’s files.” 

“That’s _impossible_ , the entire building is under massive guard, are you insane?” 

She reached for her back pocket and removed the party invite. “I have a feeling it’s going to be much more accessible on March twentieth.”

Tsuzuru put his face in his hands and tried not to start crying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect the next chapter some time tomorrow. It has less of Izumi-centered focus, but Kazunari's back! Also, Muku + Yuki interaction that I'm looking forward to writing as soon as I publish this chapter lol
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	14. Hide Your Wives, Kazunari Miyoshi Has Arrived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muku makes a friend in Yuki, Tsuzuru enlists Kazunari's help, Banri and Izumi strike a very bad deal, Sakuya takes an involuntary overseas vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite memories of all time is when I was in junior year of high school and my friend entered by yelling, "hide your wives, i'm here." It was just a very funny statement that's stuck with me ever since.

“Hide your wives, Kazunari Miyoshi has arrived,” the art student said boldly, throwing the front door open. He snapped his fingers and shot both a finger gun and a wink at his reflection in the entryway’s mirror. “Yeah, hot stuff, keep it going.” 

Izumi snorted. “Do you do that all the time when you enter somewhere?” 

“Just the somewheres that have a pretty lady, pretty lady,” he said sweetly, taking his hat off and giving her a sweeping bow. “Now, where’s the sexiest Witch in the whole city?" 

“Here I am!” Misumi said, bounding towards the Caster like an excited golden retriever. He threw his arms around Kazunari. “Thanks for coming over! We’re gonna have so much fun, I learned how to play demon poker from Sakuya last night and—“ 

Tsuzuru’s door banged open. His left eye was twitching. 

“You,” he said briskly, striding forward and grabbing Kazunari’s wrist. “Misumi, can I borrow him for a bit?" 

The Witch wilted a little. “But—“ 

“Fantastic, thank you so much.” He dragged a spluttering Kazunari back into the lab and slammed the door shut. The lock made a clean _click_ noise. 

Misumi looked at a loss for words, looking very much like a child who’d had candy taken from him. Izumi patted his back. 

“Sorry about that,” she said gently. “You wanna, uh, watch some TV while they wrap up whatever they’re doing?” 

He looked at her with sad eyes. 

“I’ll get you a Toblerone to snack on.” 

Misumi nodded, still looking very kicked-puppy-like. “Okay.”

* * *

“Dude, not cool! When I told you I’d always wanted someone to pull me away to be alone in a room together, I meant a hot girl with red lipstick, not you!” Kazunari said, tearing his arm free and smoothing out the wrinkles on his sleeve. He fluttered his eyelashes. “Tsuzuroon, did you miss my touch that much? Darling, you could have just _said_ so, you know I’d give you my attention whenever.” 

Tsuzuru put his hands on Kazunari’s shoulders. “I’m about to show you something and you _cannot_ freak out and you _cannot_ tell anybody else.” 

His friend blinked. “Um.” 

“You CANNOT. GOT IT?” 

“Yes, yes, got it! Jeez, you’ve gotten even more tightly wound since you’ve started living here, you know that?” 

Tsuzuru gently pulled away. “I’m trusting you right now with this, Miyoshi. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, sometimes you have half a brain and you’re good at solving some problems. And I need all the braincells I can scavenge around here that won’t turn me into the authorities.” 

Kazunari swallowed. “T-Tsuzuru… you didn’t. You didn’t get involved in, like, the mafia, did you?” 

“What?” 

“Are they making you be a drug mule? Or a drug cooker like in Breaking Bad? Are we going to do Breaking Bad together? Am I gonna be Jesse Pinkman? I can’t make drugs, dude, the chemicals would be murder on my skin. Shiseido moisturizer is expensive.” 

Tsuzuru held up a hand. “Please stop talking. You’re already making me regret this.” 

Kazunari pantomimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. Tsuzuru set up a quick Soundproof Rune just in case and approached the white cloth on the table furthest from the door. He wiped his upper lip of the nervous sweat and decided to just rip the bandaid off. He tore the white sheet away, revealing the body in the glass box beneath it. 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Kazunari screamed. 

“STOP SCREAMING!” 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” 

“KAZUNARI, I SWEAR TO GOD.” 

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” 

“BREATHE, YOU’RE TURNING BLUE!” 

“THAT’S A DEAD BODY, THAT’S A FUCKING DEAD BODY, WHY DO YOU HAVE A DEAD BODY HERE!" 

“SOMEONE SUMMONED THE DEAD AND THEY ATTACKED US LIKE TWO OR THREE DAYS AGO, I KEPT THIS ONE.” 

“ _WHY DID YOU KEEP ONE, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU_ , ARE YOU GOING TO KILL ME NEXT, OH MY GOD, THAT’S A DEAD BODY, THAT’S LITERALLY A DEAD BODY, HOLY SHIT, OH MY GOD, THAT IS A _DEAD BODY_!” 

“WE GET IT!” 

“FUCK YOU, TSUZUROON, SERIOUSLY, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, THIS IS SO BAD, FUCK YOU, _FUCK YOU!_ " 

Tsuzuru was so grateful he’d had the foresight to set up the Soundproof. Maybe it would be best if he just let Kazunari get it all out of his system. 

“FUCK YOU, THIS IS ACTUALLY ONE OF THE WORST THINGS YOU’VE SHOWN ME, FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING JACKASS, FUCK.” Kazunari slapped a hand over his eyes and took two large steps back until his back hit the wall. “MOTHER OF _FUCK_ , GOD, YOU ARE SUCH A NIGHTMARE, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU SO MUCH!” 

A tense moment passed with quiet. 

Kazunari took his palms off of his face, looking decidedly much older than he had when putting them on. “Okay. What do you need me to do.” 

“You got that sample of anti-magic from the Sumeragis, right?” 

Kazunari hesitated. “Uh, the black goop?” 

“Yes.” 

“My dad did. He took one sniff and locked the entire vial up in the safe. Told me, and I’m quoting him verbatim here, ‘we’ll have nothing to do with this.’” 

Tsuzuru nodded gravely. “Your father is a smart man. I tasted it—“ 

“HELLO?” 

“Relax, I threw it up. It's concentrated anti-magic. Like… pure poison.” Tsuzuru put his hand on the glass tank. “When this corpse was reanimated and sent to attack us, it spewed up the same substance and completely destroyed my Barrier.” 

Kazunari raised an eyebrow. “Did you add Extension?” 

“What am I, four? Of course I added Extension. It didn’t matter. The _second_ that tar touched it, it shattered completely.” 

Kazunari shuddered. “Is everyone okay?” 

Tsuzuru rolled up his sleeve and showed the stitched wound. “The Director and I got bitten but otherwise we all came out fine.” 

“Dude, that’s gonna leave a _sick_ scar. You could get so many ladies if you show that thing off.” 

“…Focus?” 

“Right, sorry.” Kazunari took his hat off and threw it on a table, grabbing a stool to take a seat. “So… You kept the corpse to do some study on.” 

Tsuzuru knocked the glass container with his knuckle. “I don’t think the anti-magic was created in them. After a brief dissection and preliminary study, there’s nothing in the cadaver that would hint towards manufacturing. Which, of course, means that someone was adding the anti-magic in them manually.” 

“They were creating weapons,” Kazunari said softly. He looked positively sick. “Tsuzuroon, maybe we shouldn’t mess with this kind of stuff. It’s really dark.” 

“Who else is going to do it?” he hissed, leaning closer. “The only person who knows about this corpse being in my lab is the Director and you now. And the only reason I told you is because I want you to help me study it and run my tests.” 

Kazunari hesitated. 

“ _Please_. I can’t do this on my own. I’ve been trying, but I just can’t.” Tsuzuru rubbed his forehead. “You’re the only one I can trust with this, Kazunari.” 

His friend pursed his lips and then let out a weak sigh. He took out his headband and used it to push his bangs back. “What do you need me to do?”

* * *

The two boys entered the kitchen four hours later when everyone was eating dinner. 

Misumi perked up. “Kazu!” 

“Sorry, hot thang, we’re busy right now.” Kazunari pressed a kiss to the top of Misumi’s head and immediately grabbed a plate to load with curry. “Thanks for the food, other hot thang.” 

“Please don’t ever call me that ever again,” Izumi said flatly. 

“You got it, Director.” He shot her his signature finger gun and went back to the lab. 

Tsuzuru grabbed two cans of condensed milk, wished everyone a good night, and followed his friend. 

Misumi pressed his cheek to the table and sighed in anguish.

* * *

Kazunari pulled at his eyelids and let out a frustrated groan. “I’m going to pass out. I’m going to _pass out,_ Tsuzuroon, I can’t do this.” 

Tsuzuru tossed him a can of coffee. “Man up. It’s not even five in the morning yet. We’re not even close to done with the tests.” 

Kazunari screamed into his palms. “Five minute break, dude, I’m actually begging you.” 

The Minagi son hesitated and then relented. The two dropped their notebooks to sit back for a minute. 

“You know, maybe if you stopped messing around with dead bodies, you would finally get a girlfriend,” Kazunari said after just a moment of quiet. 

“I don’t _want_ a girlfriend right now. We discussed this.” 

“A boyfriend then! I’m totally okay with that, I accept you for who you are.” 

Tsuzuru closed his eyes and told himself not to lose it. “Kazunari, I don’t want to date _anybody_.” 

“What? Why?” 

He ground his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve told you multiple times. I’m eighteen, poor, and constantly tired. The only thing I want to be in a relationship with right now is my research, money, and a peaceful life.” 

“I want to date someone,” Kazunari announced. 

“I know.” 

“I want to date the hottest girl ever. Like. _Ever_. I want her to be a supermodel.” 

Tsuzuru double checked the can of coffee to make sure it didn’t have any alcohol. “I know.” 

“The Director is _so_ hot, Tsuzuru. Have you seen her? She has hair like chocolate curls.” Kazunari sighed and practically melted. “Is she single? She’s single, isn’t she? D’you think I’ve got a chance with her if I just keep on trying?” 

“Have you met her?” Tsuzuru wondered if the nausea was from caffeine overdose or thinking about the Director in a relationship with someone. How would that even work, he wondered? “Of course she’s single.” 

“That’s so mean! This is why you don’t have a girlfriend.” 

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend because I choose—“ Tsuzuru shook his head and didn’t even bother finishing the sentence. He knocked back the can, and opened a new one to sip on while the work continued. “Break’s over. Get up. We still have to figure out when and how many times the corpse was touched by another person after burial.” 

Kazunari sniffled. “Sometimes I think you just use me because my brain is so big. I feel like you don’t even love me.” 

“Glad we’re finally on the same page, now shut up and get to work.” 

His friend sighed and fanned himself. “You’re so hot when you get all aggressive and dominant.” 

“I’m going to _end_ you." 

* * *

It was finally Monday. 

After a full weekend of crying, refusing to speak to Citron, speaking _tons_ to Juza at ungodly hours of the night, and planning for this specific interaction, he was ready. Muku swallowed thickly and tried to calm his wildly thrumming heart. 

He approached the boy. “C-Can I eat lunch with you?” 

Yuki looked up from his sandwich and said, frankly, “No.” 

“Oh, okay.” Muku instantly turned around. “I’m really sorry, of course you wouldn’t want to eat lunch with me, I’m just a bag of garbage in terms of personality walking around in a body, I completely understand.” 

Yuki sighed. “Wait.” 

Muku stopped. 

The brownie rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You asked nicely so… I guess you can eat lunch with me or something. You’re a Firstborn, aren’t you?” 

“Yes! F-Firstborn Seer!” Muku took a seat next to the other boy on the bench. He opened his bento box and offered the first compartment. “Um… I made this this morning. I wanted to share with you.” 

Yuki raised his eyebrows as he gazed at the prettily arranged octopi sausages and egg rolls. He closed his eyes. “Um. Thanks, or something.” 

Muku practically glowed. “You’re welcome! I’ve never made a bento before, it was actually a really fun experience. I hope you like it.” 

Yuki accepted one sausage. “…Sorry for being rude a second ago. I’m not really fond of magicians. But you’re a Firstborn so it’s fine, I guess." 

“You’re not?” Muku furrowed his brow. “But we’re both magical. I thought we all liked each other.” 

Yuki’s upper lip twisted. “No, not really. I hate most magicians, to be honest with you.” 

“Do you have a reason w-why?” 

Yuki popped the sausage into his mouth and chewed. “This tastes pretty good.” 

“Thank you!” 

The brownie sighed and looked down at his sandwich. “Magicians are awful people, Muku. Most of them. I mean, you’re a Firstborn. But those _Bloodlines?_ ” If Yuki’s upper lip pinched up any harder, he would sprain it. “Just dreadful.” 

“…Why?” 

“You know about the Council?” Yuki asked. 

“A little. I know Sakyo Furuichi works for them!” 

“Sakyo’s the _only_ good one. And I say that flexibly because Furuichi is a gigantic ass.” Yuki clenched his fingers into a fist. “Muku, I’m a brownie.” 

“I know!” 

Yuki put his sandwich down and turned to face the Seer eye-to-eye. “I look like a person, don’t I? I look just like you, I can talk just like you, even if my real form is smaller.” 

Muku’s eyes glittered. “Yeah! That’s why I wanted to eat lunch with you today.” 

“Bloodlines… The traditional magicians… They don’t see me as a person,” Yuki said. 

“What?” 

“Magicians look _down_ on mythics,” Yuki said scornfully. “Sakyo Furuichi is just about the only person you’ll find employing us fairly. Most magicians expect us to serve them hand and foot. They see us as objects to act as servants and nothing else. House spirits, brownies, domovois, all of us.” 

Muku’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that… Isn’t that racist?” 

“Yes!” Yuki snapped, nostrils flaring. “It is! It’s really racist. Traditional magicians are _racist_ , Muku. Don’t fall for their flowery language and their kindness. If you were anything besides a Seer, they wouldn’t be giving you the time of day.” 

“The Council is racist?” 

“It’s not like they’re going to make a public statement banning mythics, but you’ll notice that they pass _no_ laws that benefit us in any way. No minimum wage laws, no basic standard of treatment besides ‘don’t kill them loudly.’” Yuki nostrils flared. “God. I was lucky enough to get work from Sakyo. The rest of us just… find ways to function amongst the magic-less since we have no other options.” 

Muku’s chin wrinkled. “That’s, that’s awful, Yuki. I’m sorry, I had no idea it could get that bad. Granted, I haven’t had much, um, interaction with that Council besides Sakyo and the invite to the ball.” 

Yuki spat his tea out over the lawn. He coughed wildly and wiped his mouth. “Your invite to WHAT?” 

“The… the ball? Bi-annual, mayor ball or something?” Muku handed the brownie a handkerchief. “Are you okay?” 

“You got invited to the _ball?_ ” Yuki clenched his teeth, dabbing at his streaming eyes. “Typical. Of course _you_ got invited. You’re a Firstborn Seer. Everybody must fawn over you.” 

He gripped the handkerchief in his hand like he wanted to tear it to pieces. 

“You didn’t get an invite?” Muku asked, feeling as though he already knew the answer. 

“Of course I didn’t. Mythics never get invited to that thing.” Yuki looked so jealous, his eyes were boring holes into the ground. His cheeks were turning a very dark maroon. 

Muku leapt at the opportunity. “I—I have a plus one. And no one’s taken the offer. Do you want to go with me?” 

Yuki dropped the handkerchief. “Are you serious?” 

“Completely! I don’t really have anyone else I’d invite.” Muku paused and thought. “I mean, I’d probably go with Ju-chan, but I don’t think bringing a wraith to this event would be a good idea. Go with me, Yuki.” 

Yuki pressed his palms to his flaming cheeks. They were red, but for a completely new reason. “Oh, lord. What even am I going to wear? I have _nothing_. I’ll have to make a completely new dress, and find matching shoes, and accessories.” He laughed loudly. “Can you imagine what their faces are going to look like if I show up? A lowly brownie, at the ball. Those Bloodline snobs are going to lose it. Sumeragi—not even the Sumeragis get invited to that!” 

Muku smiled. “Not all magician Bloodlines are bad, you know.” 

“Yes they are, Muku. You just haven’t seen how evil they can get." 

“The Director isn’t like that,” Muku said. He cleared his throat. “Yuki, do… do you want to come over to the dorms with me after school? I promise the people at Mankai won’t treat you like that, really. And, and you’re the first magical person I’ve met on my own—“ 

“Mythic. I’m a mythic.” 

“Right, sorry, mythic.” Muku flushed. “Yuki, I want to be your friend.” 

Yuki sipped from his pink thermos and seemed to think about that for a moment. 

“Perhaps I will be open to the opportunity, granted you turn out to not be a dick,” the boy said finally. He reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Muku. Tell me about yourself." 

Muku shook the hand and smiled like the sun. “I like reading shoujo manga! And, um, sometimes I like to take long walks and just daydream a little.” 

“That’s cool. I like sewing my own clothes. I sew wounds for money. Fabric can be so expensive, it’s ridiculous.” 

“Really? Tell me about that, I’ve never tried sewing before.” 

And so the two boys ate lunch together and chatted until the bell rang.

* * *

Banri came to the dorms after class that day. Directly after class. 

“You’re here early,” Izumi said as she opened the door for him. “Sakuya and Masumi don’t usually come back for another hour or two.” 

“They’re probably a part of some club or something.” Banri took his shoes off. “Clubs are fuckin’ stupid in my opinion.” 

Izumi held out her hand. Banri high-fived it. 

“No, kid, I want money. I told you, you can cuss when you’re eighteen in front of me and not a minute before.” 

Banri clicked his tongue and handed her a 100 yen coin. “This is extortion. You like extorting money from kids? I can have you arrested for this.” 

She snapped her fingers and sent the coin zooming off to the swear cup. “Who're you going to call? You have your parole officer on speed dial?” 

“Yes, but irrelevant.” Banri took a seat at the kitchen table. 

Izumi opened up a textbook and turned it around for him to read. “I want you to try out basic levitation.” 

“Lame.” Banri snapped his fingers and sent the book rising to the ceiling. “Already got it.” 

“What? How!” 

“I broke into your room when I stayed for dinner and took the lesson sheet.” 

“BANRI!” 

He shrugged and leaned back, lacing fingers behind his head. “You snooze, you lose.” 

“That’s where it went?! Can you please stop breaking into my personal property!” 

He only shrugged again. 

Izumi sucked in a deep breath to calm herself. This brat was proving to be one of the biggest nuisances she’d ever laid eyes on. Maybe teaching a sweetheart like Sakuya had made her soft. 

“Teach me the _good_ stuff,” Banri said flatly. “None of this kiddy bullshit. It’s insulting.” 

Izumi held out her palm and he handed her another coin. 

“I’m going to regret asking this but… what do you have in mind?” 

“Black magic.” 

Izumi stood up and pointed to the entryway hallway. “Get out of my sight.” 

He huffed. “Come on. I talked to that nerd with the flat ass and ugly hair—“ 

“Please don’t say that in front of Tsuzuru, you’re going to hurt his self image.” 

“The reasoning he gave me about why black magic is bad was complete horse shit. I want to learn how to do the cool shit, not any of this tutorial beginner crap. I know that you know I’m capable of more than that.” 

Izumi could feel her face gaining a new wrinkle as she held out her hand again for more money, which he coughed up without flinching. “Banri, black magic is illegal. If I taught it to you, both of us could get arrested by the Council before the sun is up.” 

“How would they find out?” 

“I don’t _know_ how to do black magic,” she supplemented. 

“You got books, don’t you?” 

She wrung her hands. “Kiddo, you’re really making me regret letting you learn here.” 

Banri leaned over the table. “I’d owe you a favor. Just sayin’. You _know_ I’m capable of a lot. You need something’ done? I’ll do it. But I want to know what I want to know.” 

The angel on Izumi’s shoulder begged her not to do it. To shut this down before she dug a grave she’d lie in forever. Even the devil on her other shoulder was warning her against trusting this kid who almost reeked of delinquency. 

And yet, she ignored them both. 

“How good are you with sneaking around and ne’er-do-well activity?” she asked. 

“Fuckin’ best.” 

“...Money, please.” 

“Right.” 

An exchange of cash occurred. 

Izumi drummed her fingers on the table. “I might have a job for you. If you pull it off, I’ll _consider_ teaching you one thing from a book of black magic. Just one. And I get to choose the spell you learn.” 

“I get to choose,” Banri interrupted immediately. “But you can veto it.” 

Izumi sighed. “Fine. And under no circumstances are you to tell _anybody_ that I agreed to this.” 

“What’s the job?” 

She glanced at the lab door. Tsuzuru was going to slaughter her senseless if he found out. Thank the lord that he was sleeping and would probably stay asleep for the next few hours if not days. 

“There’s… there’s a building I need you to break into next week on the twentieth,” Izumi said, voice low. “It’s the Council building. Six of us are going to be at an event that’ll keep security and workers there busy and away from the property. I need a secondary team to go to the Council’s main hall and find a few files for me on past magicians.” 

“Done.” Banri slapped his hand on the table. “If I can break into a school and look through a few transcripts, this’ll be a piece of cake.” 

“You did _what_.” 

“I was trying to find Hyodo’s records so I could tease that fuckin’ bitch about his GPA. Thought for sure it was gonna be shit, but did you know that the guy’s actually pretty decent at History? What a disappointment.” 

Izumi collected two hundred yen from Banri. At this rate, she’d be able to fund the entire grocery budget just from his filthy mouth. 

“Where _is_ Hyodo anyway?” Banri complained, standing up. “I want to beat him into the dirt. He’s physical now, isn’t he?” 

Izumi steepled her fingers. “Kiddo, I know it’s useless to even ask, but do you really think it’s a good idea to fight the monster that has knives for hands?” 

Someone unlocked the front door. 

“I’m home,” Muku called. “I brought a friend, I hope that’s okay." 

Izumi turned around in the chair. “We’re in the kitchen!” 

The pink Seer appeared and immediately ducked his head in a quick bow to Banri. 

“Where’s your friend, Muku?” 

“Right!” He took off his backpack and opened the big flap. A foot-tall little boy climbed out. 

“Thanks for having me over,” Yuki said. 

Banri gaped. “Jesus _Christ_ , you’re small. What the hell are you?” 

“And you dress like it’s the last decade and you’re a pre-teen that discovered Hot Topic while also going through a difficult time,” Yuki shot back immediately. “The suburban mom desperately trying to hold onto her youth and feel cool called, she wants her hairstyle back. I’ve seen better fashion choices from a colorblind chimpanzee that selected pattern samples from an electronic screen to get an orange slice as a reward. Sit down.” 

Banri sat and looked thoroughly stunned from the verbal lashing the twelve-inch boy had given him. “Wow. That was impressive.” 

Izumi leaned down and offered a finger for Yuki to shake. “This is a surprise! Nice to see you again, Yuki. You come to take off my stitches already?” 

“No. Muku invited me.” The brownie didn’t accept the finger-shake, instead inspecting his cuticles. “Expect to keep the stitches for another week.” 

Izumi straightened. “Would you like a fruit snack?” 

“Yes, please.” Yuki snapped his fingers. “Muku, could you put me on the table?” 

“Of course!” 

Izumi got up to fetch the bag of candy and some strawberry milk for the Seer. Banri asked her if she had any soda, and she tossed him a bottle of diet Pepsi. 

“Muku invited me to the ball today,” Yuki said without looking at her. “You okay with me going with him?” 

“Er… Muku’s the one who invited you, isn’t he?” Izumi asked with a furrowed brow. “You don’t have to ask me. If anything, you should ask his parents.” 

Yuki swallowed. “Whatever.” He picked up a fruit snack which was the size of a frisbee in his small hands. 

“Do you… do you want to put up a glamour for the food? It’s a bit big for you when you’re like this, isn’t it?” 

“No.” Yuki wrinkled his nose in distaste. “The glamour is kind of like a pair of heels. I can ignore it if I have it on but I’d much rather have it off if I can help it.” 

“Huh." 

Matsukawa entered the dorms and waved a tube. “I got what you asked for, Director!” 

“Oh, Matsukawa, sometimes you make me tired but god bless you for being able to do what I ask without asking too many questions,” Izumi said briskly and took the tube from him. She uncapped the tube and took out a large, rolled up sheet of paper. 

She spread it out on the table. 

“What is that?” Yuki asked. 

“A blueprint of the Council building.” 

Yuki dropped his fruit snack. “Why...?” 

“Can I trust you? You won’t rat me out to Sakyo?” she asked sweetly. 

Yuki rolled his eyes. “Do I look even remotely like a snitch to you?” 

“Mmmm, nope! We’re breaking in on the night of the ball.” 

Yuki glanced to Muku who looked like he was having trouble following the conversation. “You’re living with some really weird people, Muku.” 

Muku nodded. “I’ve accepted it. I like most of them!” 

“Hm.” Yuki crossed his legs. “Okay, I wanna know what’s going on."

* * *

“Your magic ban is lifted,” Izumi said when Sakuya returned home from school. She beckoned him to the training room. “C’mon. I’ve got a spell waiting for you that you’re going to love. It’s a tad more advanced than the last few lessons.” 

Sakuya threw his bag to the side and rushed to follow her. 

Izumi leaned down with a stick of red chalk and drew a circle on one end of the room. She jogged all the way to the other side and drew an identical circle. 

“We’re going to be reviewing teleportation today,” she told him as she returned. She handed him a page. “Here’s the spell.” 

Sakuya hesitated. “Am I going to lose body parts?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“It’s what happens in Harry Potter.” 

She rolled her eyes. Harry Potter. The bane of her existence. 

“No, you won’t lose any body parts,” she said briskly and pushed him towards the first circle. “Stand here. I want you to stare at the other circle. Envision it in your head. Then recite the spell and imagine your body being pushed through space towards that area. Got it?” 

Sakuya nodded and licked his chapped lips. “I’ll try my best!” 

He did exactly what she told him to do. Tried to imagine that red circle in his head. Imagined appearing there instantly. 

“ _Me vectatio!_ ” 

Sakuya disappeared in a flash of light. Izumi waited a second for him to show up on the other side of the room. She waited a second. Then another. Then a couple more. 

Then she tore out of the room and hammered on Citron’s bedroom door. 

“Yes?” he said pleasantly as he opened up. 

She didn’t question the pink hat he had on. “SAKUYA’S GONE!” 

“Where did he go?” the Seer asked. 

“I DON’T _KNOW_ , WE WERE PRACTICING TELEPORTATION!” 

Citron grimaced and took his hat off, throwing it over his shoulder into somewhere in his room. “Show me to where he was last.” 

She grabbed his hand and dragged him to the red circle. Citron crouched down and touched it his fingertips, slowly tracing around the outside. He closed his eyes and strained to see where the boy had gone. 

An image flashed into his head. 

That couldn’t be right, could it? 

Citron checked again. 

He stood up and let out a slow breath. “Oh, Director…” 

“Well?!” she demanded frantically.

* * *

Sakuya looked around at the crowded cobblestoned street. The sun was brighter than it’d been, like it was early afternoon. Where was he? Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to notice but everything _smelled_ different. 

“Um, excuse me?” Sakuya asked the closest person. “Do you know where I am?” 

The stranger immediately drew away and gave him a bitter look of resentment. “ _Désolé, je ne parle pas bette langue_.” 

Oh. 

Oh, no.

* * *

Matsukawa nearly fumbled a glass of milk when the building shook to its core. 

“ _PARIS? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, PARIS?_ ” 

When Izumi Tachibana wanted to scream, she could scream to hell and back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You know what would be a good bit to add to the story," I told myself. "Societal judgement and criticism from magical creatures who aren't treated as fairly as magicians." *Sprinkles in stepping stones for class revolution*
> 
> The next chapter might take a day or two longer than usual. It's going to be a the ball scene along with the break-in scene, a total doozy, and potentially 10k words if I'm judging all of these plot points correctly. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading as always! It still blows my mind people like this story. I didn't get to respond to many comments last chapter because I was grinding to get this one published ASAP, but I'll be responding to most (especially questions) here!
> 
> Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go pass out for as long as I can
> 
> (Omi will be appearing next chapter and, clenches my fist, GOD, I am so ready.)


	15. Always Sort Alphabetically

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was time to attend the ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is SO MUCH LATER THAN IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN, and for that I am so sorry. Unprecedented amounts of work came up Monday-Wednesday that kept me away from the computer but here it is now
> 
> Also, update: while I couldn't type at work, I DID have a lot of time to think about the plot and jot down a few notes and ideas. Thus, without conflicting with the already written material, I've chosen to add the rookies into the plot although you can expect them to arrive much later

Itaru stretched back his shoulders and groaned when his spine clicked back into place. Gaming was hard work. He deserved something to drink. 

He regretted opening the door to his bedroom immediately. As per usual. 

Oh, how he loathed existing under this roof. 

“What are you doing now?” he asked scornfully as Izumi ran by him with a pile of clothes in her arms. 

She didn’t reply properly, only letting out an anguished stream of half-screams, half-groans. She threw her burden into an open suitcase on the living room floor. 

“CITRON, HOW'S AIRFARE LOOKING?” she yelled. 

“I just found two tickets on sale!” the Seer called back from the office, squinting at the computer screen. “It will take two transfers and twenty hours overall of travel, do I buy them?” 

Itaru grabbed Izumi by her arm. “Hold on, tickets? Where are you going? Why wasn’t I informed about this?” 

“ _I_ was informed about the impromptu search party like ten minutes ago, Itaru, so I don’t think you’re missing out on much,” she seethed, tugging free from his grip. “Sakuya’s lost in Paris so now we have to go find him.” 

“ _Paris?_ How do you _lose a child_ in another country?” 

She covered her face with her hands. “…We were practicing a teleportation spell.” 

Of course. That might as well be the answer. Because to Itaru, it felt like the majority of people living within the walls of this Coven could not go even half a minute without getting involved in shenanigans. 

Half of them were in desperate need of a hobby besides magic. He was a being birthed by the fires of hell and consisted more of raw magical power than flesh, but at least he ate up most of his hours playing video games. 

Itaru sighed and weighed his options. If they left, it would be quiet. But the Director was much easier to convince to buy things he wanted than that blasted sacrifice. He could always bully the awkward man that wore glasses but he wasn’t at the dorms often. And, honestly, Itaru didn’t trust either the Seer or the Director to act intelligently. Their search could last weeks. 

For his own benefit, perhaps a little action was required. 

“Do you know where in Paris he is?” Itaru asked. 

Izumi hesitated. “Nearby some bakery? _Alexine_ , I dunno what Citron—“ 

“Right.” He clapped his palms together and a ring of fire opened up over the floorboards. “Give me half an hour tops.” 

He stepped over the line and dropped straight down. 

“ITARU—?” 

He closed his eyes and free-fell in the pitch black of intangible concepts, bending through space and time and darkness. Freezing cold air rushed over his cheeks before he felt a notion of Paris nearby. He snapped his fingers.

Itaru rose from his ring of fire and stepped onto the cracked street of a Parisian alleyway. Face to face with a thoroughly stunned looking youth who had a cigarette dangling from his lips.

The demon cleared his throat. “ _Où est la…_ uh, _boulangerie Alexine?_ ”

The youth, he couldn’t have been older than sixteen, just took another drag from the cigarette and pointed down the street. Itaru ducked his head.  “ _Merci_.” 

This was why he loved Europe. None of that fussy “ _Oh my god, is that a demon, let's throw beans at it_ ” business you found in Asia. He’d always been jealous of the devils that were stationed here.

...No, Itaru took it back. He’d heard office rumors of Europeans being very heavy on exorcism. Maybe every continent was difficult for demons, just in different ways.

He shook himself out of the thoughts as he approached the bakery and found the pinkish head he’d come for. 

“Sakuya,” Itaru said in monotone. “I’m here to bring you back home.” 

The boy whirled around, eyes lighting up at the sight of who'd called his name. “Itaru! How did you find me?” 

“Citron.” 

“You can teleport?” 

He shrugged. “Probably not in the same kind you humans do. Let’s go. You’ve got the Director in all sorts of knots.” 

“I probably do, huh… one second!” He waved a coin. “I asked for someone to help and he gave me two euros. I want to buy some bread to bring back to the dorms! D’you think the Director likes bread?” 

Itaru blinked. “Uh. Sure.” 

Sakuya gave a blinding smile. “I sure hope so. Do you want to come in with me? It looks really nice in there and I’m a little scared to go on my own.” 

The window display was small but crammed with all sorts of colorful cakes and tarts and pastries. The store itself looked empty of patrons but in fairness, it was still morning in France. Itaru followed after the Witch and gazed at the array of baked goods, suddenly a little sore at not having money on hand. The cakes looked tasty.

“Where did you get two euros?” Itaru asked. 

He himself had a little collection of gold coins and diamonds tucked away from his past contracts but he doubted the bakery would accept doubloons as a method of payment. 

Sakuya handed over the coin to the baker and gestured emphatically for a long loaf of french bread. It was given to him after being tucked into a paper bag. He gave the loaf a sniff, hummed with poorly suppressed joy, and accepted the change. 

“I was trying to ask a man for directions but he just gave me money and pointed me in this direction,” Sakuya said, closing the bag. “I think he thought I was homeless. It was really nice of him to offer me money, don’t you think? Even if I was just trying to figure out where the police station was. Have you ever been to France before, Itaru?” 

Itaru tilted his chin back and tried to remember. He must have, even if just for an hour or two. 

“Probably,” he said at last, finding two thousand years of memories difficult to sift through in just a moment. “I usually respond to summons in Japan. Sometimes Korea, but it’s been at least a century since I was dispatched there." 

“I’ve never been out of the city before, much less the _country_ ,” Sakuya rambled. “This was a really fun experience. I mean, except for that first ten minutes when I was really scared. It makes me really happy that I can just… zap! Appear here again whenever I want to.” 

Itaru snorted. “I can’t help but doubt your ability to do so at the level you're at now. Wasn't your appearance here a mistake?” 

“Yeah. But one day I could do it because I wanted to!” Sakuya leaned closer and whispered, “by the way, is it okay for you to be out in broad daylight? You don’t look very normal, you know.” 

Itaru looked down at himself. He’d ditched the cloak a few days ago for something Izumi had called “sweatpants” and a yellow zip-up jersey from the storage closet. Sakuya cleared his throat and gestured, first at Itaru’s horns and then his hooves. 

“Oh.” Itaru rolled his eyes. “It’s Europe. The people here mellow out after a plague or two, it’s fine.” 

“Okay! If you say so. Is the Director worried? We should probably go back soon.” 

Itaru hesitated. He had an idea. “You got change from that baker, didn’t you?” 

“Just a euro.” 

Would it be enough? “Let us walk around in search of a tourist shop.” 

“Why?” 

“It’d be a shame to come back with solely a loaf of bread, no?" 

They found a little kitschy stand two streets down. It sold magnets and t-shirts with I HEART PARIS, the kind of garbage obviously meant for American scum. They paid for what they desired. 

The old woman running the pop-up shop seemed confused by Itaru’s horns but, like he’d predicated, chose to not comment on them.

Itaru clapped his palms to summon a portal and jerked his head towards it. “Get in. I’m not holding your hand.” 

Sakuya peered at the endless darkness at his feet and pulled a face. “Will it be safe?” 

“…Sure.” 

The Witch took in a deep breath, hugged the baguette to his chest, and jumped in. He began screaming immediately. Itaru let himself chuckle a little and then followed suit.

* * *

Sakuya kneeled on the kitchen floor right outside of the burning ring and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach.

“Kiddo?!” Izumi yelped, rubbing his back as he retched. 

He flapped his hand, motioning her to get away. She refused, still running her hand up and down his back until he stopped shaking. He wiped his mouth and sat on his knees, pale. 

“That was _awful,_ ” he informed Itaru as the demon appeared next. Citron, standing by the doorway, let out a soft squeak and turned away to tie his scarf over his eyes. 

He simply shrugged. “You’re weak.” 

Izumi went to dampen a paper towel and clean up the sick. “Thank God you got him so quickly, Itaru. What do you want?” 

Itaru poked at a sharp fang with his tongue. “Twenty thousand yen store credit for Steam.” 

“Done.” Izumi tossed the paper towel into the trash can and hugged Sakuya tight. “I’m glad you’re back safe.” 

Then she began shaking him by his shoulders until Citron forced her off.

“Director, please, you will make him vomit again,” the Seer scolded. 

Izumi's rage refused to subside. “What am I always telling you?!” 

“R-Respect women?” 

“And!” 

Sakuya sighed and closed his eyes. “Always focus on spells otherwise they’ll go overboard. Do I… have to go back to meditation?” 

“Of course! You obviously haven't been meditating enough if you landed in _France._ That spell should have taken you fifty yards max!” Izumi flicked his forehead. “You had a rough day, though so I'll let that be punishment enough. Go to bed early tonight and take it easy.” 

Sakuya thrust the baguette into her arms. “I brought back bread.” 

Izumi stared at it, not sure what to say. 

“He also got you something else,” Itaru drawled. 

Sakuya patted his sweatshirt’s pocket and removed two postcards. They were identical pictures of the Eiffel Tower, _Sending Love From Paris!_ written with shiny golden ink in the corner. He handed one to Izumi and another to Citron. 

“What does it say?” Citron asked. 

Izumi pressed her lips together. She glanced at Itaru. 

“This was your idea of a joke, wasn’t it,” she said flatly. 

The demon just smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Figured you would need a little consolation since Sakuya got to go on a vacation and you didn't.” 

Izumi grabbed the spray bottle. “I’m indebted to you so I’m giving a five second head start. Run.” 

Itaru not only locked the door to his dorm, he also flicked his finger and dragged his bed frame in front of it as a blockade. Just to stay on the safe side.

* * *

“Everyone done with dinner?” Izumi asked as she accepted the final plate from Banri and put it in the sink. “Good. Let’s get started.” 

She spread out the blueprint of the Council’s building onto the kitchen table. Everyone crowded around. 

“Citron, Tsuzuru, Muku, Sakuya, Yuki, and I are going to be at the ball. That leaves the rest of you, the Break In Team, to get into the building and find any file you can on Hakkaku Watanabe.” Izumi circled one of the rooms with red pen. “This is the archives. I recommend you start looking through there first. If it’s not,” she circled a room on the other side of the building, “then this is Mayor Reni’s office where you’ll find more sensitive information.” 

The Break In Team (Banri, Kazunari, Masumi, Misumi, and Tenma) all nodded. 

Tsuzuru tapped the blueprint with a long pointer. She’d asked if it was necessary to bring to the debriefing, to which he’d only glowered at her, not even gracing the question with a response. 

“We’re not sure how many guards are going to be stationed there during the ball. Most of them should be at the ball since working for the Council is an automatic invite but I’d expect at least some patrols,” he said. 

Tenma tagged in with a knock to the table with his knuckles. He gave a quick run down of how the Council worked for anybody who didn't know. Casters, usually either Firstborns or Second Generation, worked within the Council’s departments. A select few even helped Reni pass bills. Hunters of all sorts worked on the underground police force with Sakyo and would likely be responsible for the guarding. 

Misumi raised his hand. “What do we do if we see a guard while snooping?” 

“Run,” Tsuzuru replied simply. “Mission abort. The entire purpose of this,” he made a disgusted noise, “ _mission,_ for lack of better term, is to get information without putting the Coven in danger. If anyone on the Council thinks we played a hand in this, we’re done for and shut down by sunrise. That’s why Kazunari is going with you guys.” 

The Caster in question tipped his hat. “I’m the scapegoat!” 

Izumi pressed her fingertips together. “If you get caught and anybody asks, Kazunari wanted to get into the building and reclaim a box of enchanted fireworks Sakyo confiscated from him.” 

“Enchanted fireworks,” Tenma repeated indcredulously.

Kazunari threw his arms into the air. “They were sooooo sick! They were supposed to go off in the sky and make pictures that _moved!_ Dunno why they got taken away. I think it’s because the Council was jealous." 

Sakuya looked confused. “You’re… okay with being our excuse?” 

“Ah, I’m already on the Council’s hate list,” he said glibly. “It’s why Dad and I don’t get invited to the ball anymore. On the bright side, I’m technically not a part of the Coven so you guys won't get hurt if I take the blame! Worst case scenario—“ 

Kazunari and Misumi high-fived. In unison, they cried, “Sleepover at Sakyo’s!” 

“The demon and Hyodo can’t go with us?” Banri asked. “I feel like havin' a demon that can teleport anywhere and a ghost that can go through walls would be a little helpful.” 

Izumi cleared her throat. “Itaru said, and I quote, ’No,’ when I asked him. And Juza… well, it’s just for his safety. When Hunters see a wraith, it’s stab first, ask later. The worst for you guys would just getting apprehended. ”

"We're not putting Ju-chan in danger," Muku said very firmly.

Banri clicked his tongue. “Whatever. What security we talkin’ about here?” 

“I had Matsukawa scope it out this afternoon. There are a few cameras set up around the halls and we can expect an alarm system by the archive room and the same, if not more, at Reni’s office.” Izumi took in a deep breath and put her palms flat on the table. “You will not have to worry about that.” 

“Because I am a _genius_ ,” Kazunari interrupted. 

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, because Kazunari is a genius.” 

He slapped a packet of paper onto the table. “I am, and I repeat, a completely smoking hot, incredible genius.” He batted his eyelashes at Misumi. “What am I?” 

“A genius,” Misumi said and took Kazunari’s hat off to pat his head. 

“Yes, I am!” 

Sakuya reached. “May I?” 

“‘Course.” 

He flipped through the packet and nodded. “Wow.” He put the packet down. “I can’t read any of it.” 

Izumi laughed and ruffled his hair. “They’re advanced Runes, kiddo, I can hardly read them myself. Kazunari, can you explain?” 

“Right!” The Caster leapt to his feet because apparently he found it physically impossible to describe the process without extravagant hand gestures. “This, my friends, is a four-thousand Rune sequence meant to shut off both electricity _and_ radio waves within a specific area. The Runes stop the flow of electrons in any circuit within the perimeter of the casting and act as cell towers to absorb all frequencies meant to go outwards.” 

Silence. 

Misumi prodded Kazunari’s calf with his toe. “Kazu, you need to explain better.” 

“Right, right. Uh, makes electricity not work, also cell phones can’t text or call.” Kazunari paused and pouted. “Okay, that doesn’t sound _as_ cool but you guys have to understand that this Rune sequence was really freaking hard to make! So I would like some applause!” 

Sakuya clapped politely. 

Tenma, on the other hand, cleared his throat. “You know that’s illegal, right? Like… a s _uper_ illegal Rune sequence? It’s basically a theft kit in magic form." 

“Kid, you’re about to break into what is technically a government building, I think we’re way over the line of ‘you know that’s illegal, right’,” Izumi said. 

The Hunter shrugged. “Just saying.” 

The Director slapped her hand onto Citron’s shoulder. “Citron here will be at the ball and keeping his eyes on Mayor Reni’s thoughts at all times. The second the guy catches wind of something going wrong under his nose, we’ll let you know.” 

“How? Didn’t you just say cells would be off?” Banri asked. 

Masumi closed his eyes and put a hand on his chest. “If the Director wants me to know something, I’ll know… it’s how soulmates work.” 

“Holy crap, you are _so_ creepy,” Tsuzuru said. “No. We’re actually going to be using…” 

Izumi stuck two fingers into her mouth and whistled. 

“ _You can just call my name, you know!_ ” 

A pink bird perched on her shoulder and began to peck at strands of Izumi’s hair. 

Sakuya’s brow furrowed. “Kamekichi?” 

Izumi scratched the bird gently on his head and straightened his little bowtie. “Kamekichi is Matsukawa’s familiar. They’re linked telepathically, which works outside of radio waves. I’ll text the information to Matsukawa and he’ll relay the information to our pink little friend here. He’ll be going with you guys.” 

“ _Will you pay me? You’re gonna pay me, right?_ ” 

“All the bird seed your chubby little aviary stomach could desire for a whole week, Kamekichi, I promise.” 

He flapped his wings and preened. 

“Remember, boys,” Izumi said firmly. “The goal is to get in and out with what we want and without being discovered. They'll think a simple power outage happened and _nothing else._ Ideally, by the time Reni gets news of the blackout, you all will be on the train back home."

* * *

“Tenma, wait!” 

The Hunter gnashed his teeth but barely restrained himself from disappearing into his bedroom. He turned around and faced the Witch. “What do you want.” 

Sakuya fiddled his thumbs. “I’m really sorry. For… you know. Taking back the invite. I really wanted you to be my plus one and I feel really, really bad for screwing up. I didn't know that the Director needed Citron to go with us when I promised you."

Tenma huffed and didn’t say anything for a while. As the awkward silence stretched, he felt his cheeks heat up. He poked Sakuya’s forehead with his finger, pushing his face back. Anything to stop those puppy dog eyes. 

“It’s fine, it’s not like I wanted to go that bad,” Tenma said. 

Sakuya grabbed his hand and held it in both of his. He leaned forward and drew his eyebrows together. “The next one. I promise! Even if the Director has a new heist in mind, I’ll fight her on it!” 

Tenma jerked his hand away. “Dude, seriously, forget about it. It’s fine. My parents throw better parties, I just kind of wanted to show up so I could piss Reni and Sakyo off. You don't even know whether or not you’ll get another invite in the fall."

Sakuya looked a little placated by that statement but still very guilty. “I just feel so bad. I don’t like breaking promises.” 

“You know how to act at these things?” Tenma asked. 

“…Act?” 

“You know how to dance? What to wear?” 

Sakuya froze. “I’m supposed to _dance?_ ” 

“Sakuma, it’s a _ball_. What do you think people do."

“I—I don’t know! I’ve never been to a party before. The only ball I know is the one in Cinderella where they—“ The Witch went white in the face. “Oh, god, they _do_ dance at those things, don’t they? Tenma, what am I going to do?” 

The Hunter worked his mouth and then decided to just go for it. 

He opened his bedroom door and gestured for Sakuya to follow him. “C’mon, I’ll teach you an easy box step. It’ll take like fifteen minutes.” 

“Really?! Thank you, that’s so nice! You’re a really nice guy, Tenma, you know?” 

“Stop _talking_ , you’re so embarrassing.” Tenma felt like his face was going to light on fire. “Christ.” 

He took his phone from his back pocket and turned on the first song on his Classicals playlist. Shostakovich, good, that would be perfect. 

“So you’re probably going to want to know how to do the guy part,” he said, scratching his head. “Uh… You just…” 

He grabbed Sakuya’s hands and placed them where they belonged, taking the women's position himself. Tenma felt, to be frank, a little foolish since Sakuya was a full ten centimeters shorter. But it would have to do. 

“Imagine there’s a small square on the floor,” he instructed, eyes trained on the wooden floorboards so he wouldn’t have to process how close he was standing to the Witch. “When you’re doing the men’s part, you have to take the first step forward. Left foot.” 

Sakuya did as told. 

“Put your right foot beside it. Then step to the right—just a little, not that big! Jesus, Sakuma, how much of a klutz are you.” 

Sakuya laughed. “Pretty awful.” 

“Yeah, I can see that. _SHIT!”_ Tenma leapt away as Sakuya’s heel ground down on his toes. “FUCK! Sakuma!” 

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to!” 

Tenma knocked his knuckles on the Witch’s head, forcing him to look down at their feet. “Focus. Just because you’re leading doesn’t mean your dance partner’s going to be able to read your mind and avoid your dinosaur feet.” 

“R-Right…” 

The waltz continued. They stepped back and forth, side to side, in that small square for a few minutes until Sakuya finally seemed to get a hang of the rhythm. Tenma stepped away as soon as he figured he’d taught the concept. 

“If any girl asks you to dance, just do that and… I dunno. Make up an excuse about having to go to the bathroom when you start freaking out.” Tenma chuckled to himself. “That’s what I did at my first ball.” 

Sakuya grinned. “Thanks! I owe you one.” 

The Sumeragi heir gave a big snort. “You owe me more than just one after inviting me and then un-inviting me. What are you wearing?" 

“I have a really nice sweater vest—“ 

Tenma’s expression interrupted him better than a shout could have. “No. Sakuma, you are such a goddamn mess. Thank god you’re a Firstborn, you hardly have any other excuse. It’s a white tie event, you’re _supposed_ to wear a tux.” 

The Witch swallowed dryly. “I, uh. I don’t own one.” 

“So? Get your parents to buy one.” 

Sakuya didn’t say anything. His lips twisted into a tight smile that looked like it could shatter. “Maybe! I don’t think it’ll get here in time.” 

Tenma felt frustration bubble up in his stomach and nearly pop out of his ears in steam form. This guy was lucky he hadn’t been eaten by the upper echelons’ vultures already. He threw open his closet and took out the garment bag hanging at the end of the rack. 

“Just wear mine,” Tenma said flatly. “It’ll be better than you showing up in a _sweater vest_ and embarrassing yourself.” 

Sakuya clutched the garment bag, eyebrows all the way up to his hairline. “I couldn’t! I already owe you way too much—“ 

“Even if I hate to admit it,” Tenma continued a little louder, “I’m a part of this Coven now. If you humiliate yourself at the ball in front of all of those distinguished magicians, you’re going to be humiliating all of the people in Mankai, me included. So just wear the thing, okay?” 

Sakuya still seemed unsure. 

Tenma crossed his arms. 

“Remember, you owe me,” he said sharply. 

Sakuya’s face slowly softened to a small smile. “Yeah. I guess I do."

* * *

**MAY 20th, EVENING:**

Tsuzuru knocked on the door. 

“Hey, Director, do you—“ He paused and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to wear that?” 

Izumi looked down at her black and white pantsuit. It was a few years old and a bit on the rattier side, yes, but there’d been no tears when she had given it a look over. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“Women generally wear dresses to these things.” 

“I don’t own a dress, Tsuzuru.” She looked him up and down and gave a fond pat on his cheek. “You look snazzy though! D’awwww. All dressed up.” 

“Thanks, it’s the tuxedo my older brother wore for his cello recitals.” Tsuzuru handed her his white tie. “Do you know how to put these things on? I have a feeling you do.” 

“You assumed correctly, young sir." Izumi helped him loop it around his neck and knotted it properly. 

She nodded upon deciding it was neat and straight. 

“Let’s get going then,” she said brightly and picked up her clutch from the bedside table. 

“You know there’s going to be dancing at these things,” Tsuzuru said. “And that men are probably going to approach you asking to dance. Do you know how to ballroom?” 

Izumi grinned and showed all her teeth. “Will you be surprised if I say yes?” 

“ _You do_?” 

“…You don’t have to look that beside yourself, you know. My ex really liked going to Renaissance Fairs so she forced me to take a few lessons with her.” Izumi paused. “Although now that I think about it, I think I only learned the lead part.” 

Tsuzuru looked scandalized. “Director!” 

She waved off his concerns and instead took to cooing over Muku who’d just made his entrance to the living room. 

“Look at you!” she said, wiping her eye of a mock tear. “You look like a whole little man!" 

The boy went pink and messed with his stiff white collar. “T-Thank you, Director! I don’t think I’ve really worn a black tuxedo before. It feels really fancy and special! I can't believe we're going to a ball, just like in the fairy tales.” 

Someone knocked at the door. Izumi went to go answer, bidding Tsuzuru to fetch Sakuya and Citron from their rooms. 

“Yuki!” she cried on sight. “You look _incredible!_ ” 

“I know,” the brownie said like it was an obvious fact. 

And he did, really. He had a floor length red gown with matching ruby earrings. A white, puffy shawl covered his shoulders. And he looked—taller than usual. Izumi crouched down and raised the hem of his dress to double check. Yep, he was rocking heels. 

“ _That’s_ what you’re supposed to be wearing,” Tsuzuru said flatly as he approached them. “The fourteen year old boy just adhered to the dress-code better than you. Congratulations.” 

“A pantsuit is fine!” 

“You're not even wearing a white tie _._ This is a _white tie event._ And no, the white laces of your disgusting sneakers do not count!” 

“I’m not going to wear my Converse to the ball, Tsuzuru. What am I, uncultured?” 

Tsuzuru looked skeptical. “What are you going to wear then?" 

Izumi leaned down and brandished her scuffed pair of Timberland hiking boots. 

Yuki was the one to walk forward and quite literally slap them out of her hands. “No. Absolutely not. Are you insane? Show me what shoes you own.” 

“I—what’s wrong with my Tims? They’ve been nothing but loyal to me, you’re being rude to them!” 

Tsuzuru looked at the ceiling. “Lord, we are not to question your mysterious ways. But must you make me deal with so much?” 

Muku stood up when Yuki dragged the Director to her bedroom. “Yuki, you look so good! You were right, red really is your color!” 

“Of course it is,” Yuki snapped. “Fix your tie, Muku, your back-strip is longer than the front.” 

“Oops!" 

Yuki threw Izumi's closet open and looked horrified at the contents. He turned to her. “Why do you have to own _so_ many flannels and striped shirts?” 

“Because I stick to an aesthetic, kid. They’re the easiest to just throw on in the mornings and make match without too much effort!” 

“Fashion is _supposed_ to be effort. You taking the lazy way out is nothing but shameful, not pragmatic." He handed her a pair of low-heeled black pumps. “You’re going to wear these. Not those…” Yuki shuddered, and Izumi couldn’t tell if it was performative or legitimate. “ _Boots._ " 

“What? I hate these heels, they dig into my ankles.” 

Yuki stuck his foot out to show her his stilettos. He narrowed his eyes, as though daring her to challenge him. “These are five inches. The ones you’re holding are one and a half at most. Beauty is pain, Director. Suck it up.” 

Izumi sighed gustily and put on the pumps. 

“Whoa. That’s a very nice suit. Where’d you get that from?” 

“Ten let me borrow it!” 

Izumi and Yuki left her bedroom to find the boys crowded around Sakuya. Muku shifted to the side and let them catch a glimpse. 

For some reason, Izumi felt overcome with a sharp wave of unfamiliar emotion. A mix of sadness and pride swelled in her chest. 

Sakuya was wearing a a sleek, handsome tuxedo that was a size or two too big on him form the way the sleeves had to be cuffed. Whenever he moved, the fabric of the suit caught light and blazed with subtle oranges and reds like candle's flame. It was the first time, Izumi realized, that she was not seeing him in street clothes or pajamas. 

“Are you actually crying,” Tsuzuru murmured exasperatedly. 

Izumi dabbed her eye again, only this time with a little more sincereity than she cared to admit. “He’s eighteen, Tsuzuru. They really _do_ grow up so fast.” 

“You met him a month and a half ago.” 

“And what a month and a half it’s been.” Izumi cleared her throat and stepped forward, fixing Sakuya’s tie despite it being immaculate. “You look great, kiddo. You’ll knock ‘em dead at the ball and make Reni feel like hell for putting such a hard time on you.” 

Sakuya smiled at her as warm as the undertones of his jacket. “Thank you, Director. I like your pantsuit.” 

“So do I, but nobody else seems impressed by it.” 

Yuki nudged the Director aside, eyes narrowed. “Hold on. That tuxedo looks… so familiar. Where did you say you got it from?” 

“A friend loaned it to me! You haven’t met everybody here, right? Your name was Yuki?” 

Yuki leaned down and couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the fine, shimmering wool. “I _know_ this suit. I’ve seen one just like it before…” 

“It’s really nice, isn’t it?” Sakuya said excitedly. “It was really nice of him to let me borrow it.” 

"Hold on. This—? This is a Bloodline suit. Who—?” 

A door opened. Tenma came out holding a few golden buttons in his palm. “Dumbass, you forgot your cufflinks. The suit isn't complete without the cufflinks!” 

Yuki dropped Sakuya’s sleeve along with his jaw. The air suddenly turned cold. 

“Tenma Sumeragi,” Yuki whispered, each syllable like a needle coated in poison. 

Tenma blinked and raised an eyebrow. “Do I know you?” 

The Coven had already born witness to many explosive moments within its walls, but Izumi couldn’t recall the last time there’d been a legitimate explosion. At least, that’s what it felt like. Every cabinet, every drawer, every door, all slammed open and banged so hard against the wall that the plaster would never recover. The rug under their feet swept out and everyone toppled with a shriek. She heard shattering in the kitchen—the dishes? 

And then the lightbulbs burst. She grabbed the nearest person she could, probably Muku, and forced the boy to duck his head and avoid the shards of glass that rained down on them in the darkness. 

“What the fuck!” Tsuzuru yelled, which she would excuse given the circumstances. 

“Sakuya,” she snapped. “ _Reficio_ , now!” 

“I—huh? I don’t know that spell!” 

“Now!” 

“ _R-Reficio!_ ” 

A gust of wind that smelled of pine swept through the Coven’s living room and kitchen. After sparking fiercely, the lightbulb shards lifted back into their sockets and repaired themselves. The lights came back on. 

Yuki had not moved in the chaos, still staring down at Tenma like he was looking at a cockroach. “What is _he_ doing here?” 

“Tenma is a teacher here, Yuki,” Izumi said sharply. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that was just a loss of control. Don’t make me regret giving you this pass.” 

The brownie jabbed a perfectly manicured fingernail that was the same shade of his dress, and now his face. Actually, his complexion was nearing purple at this point. “You have a _Sumeragi_ working for you?” 

He whirled to face Muku who seemed like he was struggling for breath on the floor. “AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?” 

Izumi grabbed the young boy by his shoulders and brought her face in close. “Listen to me right now. Do you understand what you just did? You just put three kids currently under my supervision in the way of broken glass. Whatever issue you may have with Tenma or his family is irrelevant right now if you continue in this fashion. Do I have a reason to be concerned, Yuki?” 

Yuki opened and shut his mouth. He pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. 

“Good.” She straightened up and checked her watch. They were already running late. They had to get the BI Team out of the dorms now. “Tenma, get up. Misumi and Masumi and the bird should already be in the backyard. Kazunari and Banri will meet you three at the Council building’s station. Keep us updated through Kamekichi, will you?” 

The Hunter slowly got up and cast a concerned (scared?) look towards Yuki. He licked his lips and nodded. “Right. Okay.” 

“But—!” 

“We don’t have _time_ , Yuki,” Izumi said sharply. “I will be _so, so_ glad to moderate whatever issue you have with Tenma but I can only handle one major event on my plate at a time. Please?” 

The brownie clenched his jaw. “Whatever.” 

She leaned down and rubbed Muku’s back. “Sweetie, you good?” 

The Seer nodded, blinking like his eyes were having trouble coming back into focus. “I t-think so? What happened?” 

“Who knows, but that sounds like a problem for Future Us.” She glanced at Yuki who had his eyes trained on the ceiling. He was breathing heavily. “What are you doing?” 

He spoke through gritted teeth. “I didn’t wear waterproof mascara and I’m trying really hard not to tear up right now because none of you are worth my smudged makeup.” 

Sakuya nodded. “I cry when I get overwhelmed sometimes too.” 

Muku reached towards his friend. “Yuki, I—“ 

He drew away. “Don’t talk to me right now. I’m mad at you.” 

“What?! But—!” 

“I gave you an _hour long_ rant about how much the Bloodlines in this city have screwed mythics over and you didn’t tell me that you were living with the worst of the lot? You might as well have lied to me!” 

Tsuzuru raised his hand. “Not all Bloodlines.” 

“Take the hashtag to Twitter, you background character,” Yuki shot back. 

Tsuzuru lowered his hand. “Ow.” 

Izumi clapped her hands. “HEY. Drop it! One event at a time.” 

Yuki crossed his arms and looked away from them all. Citron poked his head into the living room and smiled. 

“Is the storm passed?” he asked pleasantly. 

Izumi pointed an accusing finger. “That was why you were taking so long to get dressed.” 

The Seer just laughed.

* * *

“Holy crap,” Muku whispered. 

Izumi let out a low whistle. “Holy crap is right. Thin ice, but… it’s right.” 

Tsuzuru had informed her prior that the Council rented the city’s cathedral for the event, seeing as how it was the largest building available, but she could have never expected _this_. Each and every marble wall within draped with rich tapestries. Bustling waiters and waitresses holding trays piled high with champagne glasses, filled with bubbling drink of every shade. Tables covered in white linens on one half of the room, a dance floor stationed on the other with several people milling around and socializing. The dresses were large and flamboyant and, up until that point, things that had only existed for Izumi on the television screen when they were announcing Oscar winners. 

Yuki gripped Muku’s arm. “I’m still really, really mad at you but I think I might fall over otherwise."

Citron clapped. “Wonderful! This is just like back home."

“ _Home?_ Where did you live again” Tsuzuru surveyed the small group. “The rest of us are poor gang, I hope.” 

“Um… I'm middle class,” Muku offered. 

“Same.” Izumi said.

Sakuya smiled awkwardly. “Technically? I mean, maybe. My relatives do alright but I’m kind of cut off at the moment.” 

Yuki didn’t answer, just rolled his eyes. 

Izumi’s phone beeped. She glanced at the message. It was Kazunari reporting having arrived at the site and starting to set the perimeter. They had to track down Reni. 

“What does the mayor look like?” she muttered at Tsuzuru. 

He shook his head. “He doesn’t make an appearance at the party until thirty minutes later to give a speech.” 

“They give _speeches?_ ” 

“Formalities to get the party into full swing. He’ll start talking in front of a lectern once everyone takes a seat, you won’t miss him.” 

She nudged Citron. “You think you’ll be able to keep an eye on his thoughts the whole night?” 

He laughed like she was silly for even asking. Sakuya pulled at her arm. 

“Director, Director, let’s go get a table!” he said, nearly buzzing with excitement by being surrounded by such glamor. 

Sakuya picked a table at random and was immediately besmirched by Yuki who forced them all to sit near the front and side instead. 

“Centers are for chumps who can’t get attention in any other way besides throwing themselves into the spotlight,” he said snidely, pulling a chair out for Izumi to sit at. “The real stars sit at the side and draw eyes no matter what.” 

“Yuki, they have a chocolate fountain,” Muku whispered, pointing to the table set up near the chamber orchestra. 

The brownie reacted like someone had just shocked him with a cattle prod. “ _Where_.” 

The two boys swept over towards the appetizers like moths to a flame. Sakuya fidgeted a little. 

Izumi rolled her eyes and slapped him on the back. “Go. I know you want to.” 

“Thank you!” 

The three remaining took their seats at the table. A waiter passed by and handed them all champagne glasses. 

“Nope,” Izumi said immediately, taking Tsuzuru’s away and one-shooting it. 

He looked thoroughly exasperated. “Are you serious?” 

“You cuss when you’re eighteen, you drink when you’re twenty.” She made a face. Champagne was like drinking sparkling water but worse. It was alcohol that lied about being alcohol.

Citron leaned over and whispered sensually in her ear. “I know your secret, Director.” 

Izumi blushed and looked away. “I-I have no idea what you mean.” 

Citron put a hand on her hip and murmured, “Show me what you are hiding under your clothes.” 

“What the hell are you two doing,” Tsuzuru asked, interrupting the weird energy. 

Izumi slowly reached into her pants and pulled out the hip flask she’d crammed in before leaving. 

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Tsuzuru snatched the flask away. He unscrewed the top and took a sniff. He gagged. “Is—Is that brandy? You smuggled brandy into the most high-end party of the season?” 

She dropped her jaw and took the flask back. “No! It’s vodka.” 

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?!” 

She added a dribble to her champagne glass and handed it to Citron. “Lighten up, kiddo. Fancy parties _never_ have good drink, that’s just a well-known fact. Thus, I came prepared.” 

“You exhaust me. You’re the worst.” 

She and Citron clinked their glasses before both drank. 

“You’re just upset you can’t drink yet,” Izumi said once coming back up and gestured a waiter over to re-fill. 

Tsuzuru got up from the table. “I’m done. I’m going to the hors d'oeuvres table with Sakuya and the kids.” 

“Get me anything you think looks expensive,” she called.

* * *

The food offered at the ball were all light appetizers and pretty desserts. Something to grab and nibble on when you were feeling peckish, but nothing so heavy that it could impede one’s ability to dance the night away. 

Tsuzuru took one look at the small dish handed to him and quickly drew a Rune on the bottom, turning it to the size of a hubcap. 

“You are such a heathen,” Yuki said with a scoff as Tsuzuru began to pile up plate-turned-tray. 

The Caster shrugged. “There’s a reason why every all-you-can-eat buffet in this city has college students banned.” 

Muku took a bite from his chocolate cake and sighed. “Everyone’s dressed so nicely. The music is so elegant. I feel like I’m really living in a Disney movie.” 

“Where’s Sakuya?” 

Muku pointed to across the room. “He’s helping a few of the elderly magicians find comfortable seats.” 

“That kid…" 

Yuki let out a horrified shriek, barely muffling it with a palm slapped over his mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” Muku asked. 

He pointed a shaking finger towards someone. “What is _that?_ ” 

Tsuzuru looked up from the arrangement of asparagus wrapped in bacon.

“Oh…" He sighed. "That, kids, would be Homare, the esteemed head of the Arisugawa Bloodline. I recommend you don’t make eye contact with him. The Arisugawas and the Council get along decently well but everyone knows the guy is a total whacko. Interaction would be social suicide.” 

“I know who he is! What is he _wearing!_ ” 

And indeed, Homare Arisugawa stood out like a sore thumb in an emerald green suit paired with a tall top hat. He wasn’t the only man to be wearing a top hat at the event, but his was certainly the only one that was a foot tall and decorated with a large purple bow. 

“He looks like a lime Willy Wonka,” Yuki was sobbing, leaning on Muku’s shoulder for emotional support. “He looks like that Onceler guy from the Lorax. Who let him leave the house like that? I can’t do this, I don’t have any faith in the general public anymore. When did fashion die, Muku? When! And wherefore!” 

“He’s walking towards our table,” Muku whispered. 

“He’s what?!”

* * *

The stranger gave a flourishing bow and then dropped to one knee in front of Izumi. “Hello, fair lady. My name is Homare. Would you care to dance?” 

Izumi looked at him over the rim of her glass. She knocked it back with a flick of her wrist and placed it back onto the table. “Hi. Nice to meet you. Uh, I only know the men's part. That okay with you?” 

Homare smiled and flipped the one lock of hair that was left peculiarly longer than the rest. “How can I expect myself to beguile others with my endless charm if I don’t know both parts to a waltz?” 

“Cool.” Izumi got up and handed her clutch to Citron. She leaned over and hissed into his ear, “If I come back and find all my vodka gone, I will wax strip your legs tonight. Got it, Seer?” 

“I am afraid my Japanese is not good enough to understand what you're saying,” Citron replied sweetly, unscrewing her flask to add another hit to his champagne. 

“Watch it.” Izumi straightened and offered Homare her arm. “Shall we?” 

“We shall!” he cried and swept her off to the dance floor. 

He placed his hand on her shoulder and she placed hers on his back. The two slowly began dancing along with the other couples, stepping on the sides of an imaginary box. 

“So you’re the new High Priestess of the Coven, I take it?” Homare asked as he took a step forward. 

“Yep, just started teaching a little over a month ago.” She raised her arm high for him to twirl under. For a guy who looked like fourteen evergreen saplings tied together with duct tape, he was surprisingly graceful. “And you would be?” 

“Homare Arisugawa! I’m shocked you have not heard of me, the name stretches far and wide over the hills of—“ 

“Ahhh, Arisugawa Bloodline. Got it.” They spun in a big circle. Izumi snorted as Homare’s hat smacked an older gentleman in the process. “Is this the whole party? Just, uh, dancing and speeches?” 

Homare didn’t get a chance to answer as someone seized her around her middle and swept her away. 

“Jesus—! Tsuzuru, what’s wrong with you?” she complained. “That was very rude.” 

He marched her back to the table and forced her to sit down. “Do not let her get up from this seat, Citron.” 

The Seer smiled airily as he folded his napkin into a paper crane. Tsuzuru sat down beside her, slamming his plate on the table. 

“Can I ask what that was about?” 

“Homare Arisugawa is the _weirdest_ Caster on this side of the ocean and avoided by every magician like the pox. I left you alone for ten minutes and you were dancing with him?” 

Izumi picked up her champagne glass and took a pointed sip. “Hm. And yet, he was _invited_. And _you_ are my plus one. Interesting." 

Tsuzuru flushed. “T-That means nothing! The Council’s had it out for my family for generations!” 

“Hmmmm.” 

Sakuya returned, looking thoroughly spent already. His arms were piled high with several oddities. 

“A lot of people just gave me things when I was helping them around,” he explained. “I don’t really get it but it was really nice! This guy gave me a signed book of Runes.” 

Tsuzuru took one look at the leather-bound grimoire and spewed tomato sauce all over the tablecloth. 

“TSUZURU, WERE YOU RAISED BY WOLVES!” Izumi yelled. 

The Caster grabbed the volume and checked the signature, wiping his mouth furiously with his sleeve. “Kuryu. It’s _Kuryu’s_. Where was he?!” 

“Ah? Um, uh, I think he’s sitting over—“ 

He was gone. Izumi crossed her arms and sighed. The ball was not as fun as people had amped it up to be. She hoped the Break In Team was having a better time than she was.

* * *

Tenma dragged his palm down his face. “Misumi, I said no.” 

“But Teeeeenma, pleeeeeease?” 

“I said no. Let the cat go.” 

Misumi pulled the animal closer to his chest and pouted. “But Carol said she wanted to come with us!” 

“ _Misumi, no._ We are not bringing a cat to a break in of a government building.” 

“But—!” 

Masumi grabbed the cat from Misumi’s arms and placed it down on the street. “Shoo.” 

The cat mewed at him but skedaddled once he shot it a poisonous glare. Misumi wilted. 

Banri stared at them and chose to keep walking. “Man, you guys are all super fuckin’ weird. C’mon, that annoying blond guy’s waiting.” 

“Kazu!” 

Misumi raced ahead of them. 

Banri whistled. “Christ, that guy can run fast.” 

When the three that chose to walk at a normal pace rounded the corner, they were gifted with the sight of Misumi spinning Kazunari around in a big embrace. 

“Have you been working out, Sumi?” Kazunari asked, laughing. “I was the one picking you up last summer.” 

“I eat a lot of triangles!” 

“Yes, king, get those edges! We love that here.” Kazunari glanced at the latecomers and tapped Misumi’s shoulder. “Alright, we gotta put our serious faces on now. Big job, you know how it is.” 

Misumi dropped his friend back to the pavement. “Okaaaay. Serious face… on!” He scrunched his eyebrows together and pouted. “This is how Tsuzuru looks when people don’t refill the toilet paper stand and leave the cardboard roll.” 

“Ah, man, you got it right on the nose! You totally look just like him.” 

Tenma cleared his throat. “Guys. Focus?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Kazunari pointed to the large office building across the street from them. “You guys see that?” 

“Yeah,” they all chorused except for Masumi who only scowled harder. 

“Dope. Watch this.” Kazunari leaned down and ran his thumb on the ground, activating the Runes. 

Each and every character in the long, stretching sequence glowed bright green and flashed. Every light visible through the building’s windows went off. As did the streetlamp, turning the entire area eerily dark. 

Tenma shuddered. “You’re going to get arrested one day. For real.” 

“I’ll go with you, though, so it’ll be okay!” Misumi said and threw his arms around Kazunari’s shoulders. “Let’s go inside, we should probably do this as fast as we can.” 

“ _Sqwuaaaaaak!_ ” Kamekichi landed on Masumi’s head and flapped his wings. “ _We’re supposed to wait for the signal!_ ” 

He swatted the bird away and glared harder. It was late and he wanted to go to sleep already but… it was for her, after all. So he’d push his bedtime back a little longer.

* * *

Tsuzuru came back to the table looking thoroughly starstruck. 

“You got what you came for?” Izumi asked. 

He tilted his head back and let out a dreamy sigh. “He’s so cool. He… he signed my arm.” He rolled up his sleeve to show off the signature done in sharpie. “I’m never going to wash this arm again.” 

“Please do. One of the few redeeming qualities you possess is your astuteness on physical hygiene.” 

Tsuzuru melted onto the table. “If he asked me to marry him, I’d decline sharply but then propose being friends with benefits.” 

“Oh my god, Tsuzuru, he’s like thirty years older than you.” 

“And? I’d have free access to his library afterwards, that’s enough."

"You'd sell out for a library?"

" _What of it._ "

Citron poured from the flask and made a face when it came up empty. “The speech will be starting soon.” 

Izumi looked around. “Oh? Where are the kids?" 

“They’re dancing!” Sakuya said through a mouthful of cake. 

“Wipe your mouth, kiddo, you’ve got frosting all over your chin.” 

“Oops.” 

Someone somewhere in the room tapped the edge of their glass with a fork. Like wolves to a howl, everyone else followed suit until the entire cathedral-turned-ballroom was filled with the sound of clinking crystal. The floating lights near the ceiling dimmed to a moody ale-gold and Muku and Yuki returned from their small stint on the dance floor, out of breath and cheeks flushed. 

“Gimme a shrimp,” Yuki demanded, leaning over to snatch one from Tsuzuru’s hoard. 

“Hey, get your own!” 

Sakyo walked to the center of the dance floor with the spotlight trained on him and set up the small platform and lectern. He leaned into the mic and cleared his throat. 

“Attention please,” he said, ever so formally. “Mayor Reni Kamikizaka will now come to stage to share a few words.” 

A smattering of applause as the head of the Council’s underground police retreated. Izumi held her breath. There was a light pause before someone new appeared in the spotlight. 

Reni Kamikizaka was… not what she’d been expecting, in full honesty. She wasn’t sure _what_ she’d expected, maybe a bald rotund man with a cigar between his fore and middle fingers, but it hadn’t been piercing eyes and long, thick plum hair. Reni certainly looked the part of a Council Mayor, at least. 

“I would like to share my appreciation for everyone who made time to make it to this event,” he began, voice a low timbre. “It’s good to once again meet so many familiar faces. And,” here it felt like he was looking straight at their table, “also make acquaintance with some new ones who I’m sure will pave their path soon.” 

Applause again. Izumi joined slowly, feeling like she had to. 

“The city continues to be as we always hope it is. Magic may lie in secrecy to the wide world but we refuse to let it die. We let our pride and our birthright flourish and live on whilst not disturbing the rest of society. This is in large thanks to the hard work of Sakyo Furuichi and our police force.” 

More applause. A second spotlight trained on Sakyo, who just gave a small nod of his head, lips drawn into a tight line. 

Reni spared the tables a smile. “I have a few statements of recognition to share with you this evening. But not to fret, I am not blind to the reason you have all joined us. It will not last very long and soon you may all partake in dancing once again. Personally, I recommend that everyone keep very hydrated with the poison of their choice.” 

The audience tittered. 

As the mayor rambled on and on about all the acclaimed families that had joined them for the evening from all over Japan, Izumi leaned over towards Citron. 

“How is it?” she hissed. 

It was hard to make out in the dark but she felt like Citron had on an expression she’d never witnessed before. 

“I cannot see,” he said softly. 

“…What?” 

“I cannot read him at all.” Citron folded his hands on the table. “He has a shield up.” 

“A _what._ ” 

“A shield. It is either a charm, or a spell, or an artifact that makes it impossible for me to read his thoughts.” 

Izumi sat back in her chair, stunned. Why? Why would he need something like that in place? There were no Seers in Japan, let alone this city, up until now. She suddenly had an idea and knocked her elbow into Citron’s side. 

“What about Sakyo,” she hissed. “He’s head of police, he’ll be getting the same updates on the Council’s Main Hall as Reni. Maybe even before." 

The Seer flicked his eyes towards the Hunter in question and suddenly smiled. 

“Oh my,” he mused. “You have quite the admiral in your midst, don’t you, Director?” 

God, sometimes Izumi wished Citron would stop speaking in riddles. “Huh?” 

“No, no, not my secret to share, I think. I can read him just fine. He is unaware.” 

Izumi hesitated and reached for her phone in her clutch. She ducked under the table to text Matsukawa to get the ball rolling.

* * *

“ _It’s a go!_ ” Kamekichi chirped. He spread his wings and flew up. “ _I’ll keep a lookout!_ ” 

Kazunari pressed a hand to the Council Hall’s door and frowned. 

“Oh, this is a conundrum,” he muttered and squinted. The Caster swiped his hand over the door and a long string of Runes lit up.  “Buttcheeks." 

Misumi squinted at them, trying to make sense of the squiggles. “What is it?” 

“Complete barricade and lock sequence. It’s going to take me like an hour to undo these.” 

The Witch frowned. “That’s a lot of time.” 

“There’s no other choice, I can’t use an Unlock Rune when these are in place. I have to find a way to collapse ‘em otherwise I can’t use magic to get us inside." 

“Hold on, hold on, let me get something straight.” Banri tied his hair back into a little ponytail and went down on one knee in front of the door. “There are Runes and shit to stop you from breaking in with magic, but nothing _on the door_ besides a normal lock?” 

“Yeah, just about.” 

The teen rolled his eyes and removed a little cloth roll from his jean pocket. He undid the velcro and spread the strip to show a collection of oddly shaped wires. Before anybody could ask dumbly what they were, the potential asker was a toss up between Misumi and Tenma, he selected the main strand and stuck it inside the keyhole. He clicked his tongue, stuck the wire in his mouth to hold it, and tried another. 

“Dude, you know how to pick locks?!” Kazunari marveled. 

“Stupid of anybody to rely on just magic as defense. There’s not much difference between lock puzzles and lock picking, it was easy enough to pick up,” Banri muttered through a mouthful of metal as he stuck another pin inside. He guided it slowly into the sole empty barrel and shimmied them all around. The lock _clicked_ and he grinned. “Bingo.” 

Tenma made a face. “I’ve never been surrounded by so many delinquents before.” 

“Ah, Tenten! You’re an accessory to the crime now! Don’t feel left out,” Kazunari cooed as he slapped his palm onto the Hunter’s back. “Okay, uh, Sumi and I’ll head towards Reni’s office. You three make it to the archives room. If anything happens, leave the area and we’ll catch up sooner or later, got it? Remember, my ass on the line.” 

Misumi leaned his chin on Kazunari’s shoulder. “It’s a good ass, Kazu!” 

The Caster shut his eyes and sniffed. “Gosh, you’re the only person in this world I can still trust.” 

Masumi made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. He turned on the flashlight of his phone and started walking down the hall. “Let’s just get going.”

* * *

The lights had just turned up back to their usual brightness. 

"Goddamn it," Tsuzuru whispered under his breath as Reni immediately headed towards their table. 

“Miss Tachibana, may I presume?” the Mayor asked in that honey-thick tone of his. 

Izumi didn’t really know how to respond so she chose to settle for a simple, “Haha, yeah.” And, unfortunately, received a swift kick in the shin beneath the tablecloth from Tsuzuru. 

The mayor glanced at Tsuzuru and, oh, that moment of clear annoyance and loathing was incredible to see. “Mister Minagi.” 

“Wonderful party, Mayor, I’m so glad I finally got to witness it,” Tsuzuru said with a smile faker than Izumi's clutch that read Gucki instead of Gucci. “My mother sends her regards.” 

“Hm.” His eyes travelled to the others at the table. It stopped at Sakuya. “Ah, the Firstborn Witch. Wonderful to meet you finally, lad.” 

Sakuya waved. “Thank you so much for the invite!” 

Mayor Reni held his palm out to Izumi. “May I be so bold as to whisk Mankai’s High Priestess away for a waltz?” 

"She'll pass," Tsuzuru said snarkily.

"Actually, I think—"  She tried not to let the tears escape her eyes from the pain at another very pointed kick from the Caster sitting beside her. “KNOCK IT OFF, MINAGI. A dance sounds lovely, Mayor Reni.” 

Christ, if she didn’t known any better she’d think Tsuzuru had worn knives instead of leather loafers. 

The mayor brought her to the dance floor as the small chamber orchestra began playing once more. She bit her lip, trying desperately to remember the little details of the female part of the dance. 

“You’ll have to excuse my choice on secrecy,” Reni said, giving her a charming little quirk to the corner of his lips. “I’m sure your Seer acquaintance has noticed. However, privacy is a big principle for the Council and seeing as your Coven has recently gotten _two_ individuals capable of reading minds… You understand why some precautions were taken.” 

“Citron might have said something or other." She did a small, unenthusiastic spin when he raised his arm. “And Muku, that’s our new Seer student, he’s a delight but I think he’s only just gotten a hang of aura sight. Or whatever it’s called, I really don’t know much on how Seer magic works.” 

“How altruistic of you to open the Coven once more. And for the sole sake of a few young boys.” They turned, did a bit of fancy footwork where she definitely stepped on his toes, and promptly resumed the box step. “Should you ever find that you need assistance in teaching the Seer and the Witch, know that the Council is just a step away.” 

Oh, Lord. He was... so full of shit, Izumi thought to herself. “More like sharks in the water, right? Since you want to shut us down if Sakuya doesn’t pass the test?” 

“It’s a formality, Miss Tachibana. A necessary one as well, seeing as how the young Mister Sakuma is the only Firstborn Witch this country has seen in a very long time. A mess-up on your behalf in his education could be detrimental for us all." 

Izumi sent up a small Thank You to God despite not believing in Him. For giving her the foresight to sneak alcohol in. No amount of champagne flat would have given her the level of inebriation needed to suffer through a conversation with this guy. 

“I was an acquaintance of your father’s,” Reni noted. “A swell man. Perhaps we may not have seen eye to eye on everything, but I always admired the dedication he had towards teaching."

Izumi smiled. “You don’t say? That’s nice. He was basically an absent father for the majority of my childhood before completely disappearing eight years ago and my mom raised me as a single parent, but it’s kind of you to think he’s a swell man." 

She did another spin but didn’t miss the little grimace on Reni’s mouth. Good.

“Let’s not talk too much about my dear old dad,” she said. “Do you have another conversation topic in mind, Mayor Reni?” 

The man hesitated. He cleared his throat as his hand on her back went slack. “Perhaps we—“ 

Izumi clutched Reni’s hand in an iron grip and pulled him closer. “No? That’s fine, I’ve got a great one and I hope you'll humor me. First opportunity I’ve had so far to talk to the guy who thinks he can shut down _my_ Coven." 

“Pardon me?” 

She laughed cheerily. “There’s this really interesting history book my father had in his study. I read it a long time ago when I was a little girl. The word ‘quest’ came up once or twice.

"They used to be tests for Firstborns, you know, whole centuries back. A way Firstborns could prove their power and be accepted into magic society that shunned them otherwise out of distrust for outsiders.” 

They’d stopped dancing entirely and were just chest to chest in the middle of the dance floor, standing there. Getting dirty looks from the other couples swaying back and forth and twirling around, but Izumi didn't care.

“It is a formality, Miss Tachibana,” Reni said calmly although he looked annoyed. “I’m sure Sakyo Furuichi has told you. The quests we administered for the students of your father’s Coven, and the one we have in mind for Mister Sakuma, are nothing like the ones you've read about in your little history book. I assure you ours are much safer.” 

Izumi put a finger to her chin like she was thinking. “You know, I did hear that from him. But that’s just the _strangest_ thing.” 

“...I’m afraid I am not following.” 

Izumi’s eyes were wide with false wonder. “I was going through the Coven’s archives for information on what quests had been like twenty or thirty years ago. You get it, right? Just trying to get a sense of what I should teach Sakuya. But the records we had were all so vague. Just notes of ‘this kid passed’ or ’this kid failed.’” 

“Anonymity and secrecy are important for the integrity—“ 

“The Coven’s archives were open for anybody to access,” Izumi continued, cutting Reni off. “I mean, the building was closed for so long. Anyone could have gone inside and done what they’d liked to the files."

"Miss—"

Izumi held up her hand to stop him. "Sorry, I'm still talking. Please let me finish. Recently, we managed to find the diary of a Founder in a hidden room. There were entries about goodbye parties for some students. Most of them moved away from the city after graduating. Yet, in the whole entire journal, there was not a _single_ mention of a quest. Isn’t that weird?” 

Reni’s face was void of any emotion. 

She shrugged. “I’ve been fortunate enough to get in contact with some Bloodlines even if I’ve only lived in this city for a month or so. I called Madame Sumeragi two days ago, asking if she knows anything about the Council administering quests in the past. She told me she'd never heard of such a thing. Sakyo seems to believe it thoroughly, but he was never part of a Coven since he had, in his own words, 'extenuating circumstances.' So I should think that he gets all that information about Covens from _you_.” 

“Miss Tachibana, are you accusing me of something?” Reni asked coldly. 

She smiled sweetly. “Oh, I'm sorry. Was I being unclear about it?"

His nostrils flared.

"I don’t think the Council has ever administered quests for the students of Covens. Not even during my father’s generation." Izumi kissed her teeth. "So, I guess I’m just very curious as to why you’ve lied about it being a ‘formality' and why you’re making Sakuya go through one.” 

Reni and Izumi stared at each other. 

She took a single step away and crossed her arms. “Well?"

* * *

Banri decided then and there that magicians were all absolutely useless and stupid. Thank God he’d been forced into this world because as a blessed, he was technically part of magic society. And if he was technically part of magic society, then he could run for Mayor and start making some changes.

Changes that included _get new locks for the Main Hall_ because the ones they had in place currently might as well have been bought from Toys R Us.

He picked the second lock that evening under sixty seconds and bowed deeply. 

“Gentlemen,” he announced sarcastically, “the treasure trove awaits.” 

Masumi shoved Banri aside with his shoulder. The archive room was less of a... well, room, and more of a tiny enclosure that adjoined three hallways. Each hall had endless file cabinets instead of walls and stretched further than the flashlight's beam could reach.

“I’m searching the W section first,” Masumi said bluntly. “You try to steal my thunder and the Director away and I’ll kill you without a second thought.” 

Banri shoved his hands into his pockets and sneered. “Why do I have a feeling that you’d be really popular on TikTok?” 

“There’s no point in social media if she’s not on there,” he growled back and went through the first door. 

Tenma walked and stopped by Banri’s side. “Does he not realize that W is in the middle of the alphabet?” 

The more experienced Hunter shook his head and went down the second long hall. 

Banri hummed to himself. Yep, magicians were stupid. W was the 23rd letter of the alphabet out of 26, and would be along the middle of the third hall. Although, the lack of X and Z last names would make sense for the Council to lead room for more files and place W earlier on.

He strolled down the hall at leisure for a minute or two and stopped in front of one. Just one at random, from a mix of common sense and a gut feeling.

Banri laughed at the W marked manila folders that greeted his eyes. H e was too good at a game he didn’t even play in. He began rifling around for Watanabe.

Things were going _great._

That was when a fucking cannon of a human body barreled into his side and sent him sprawling across the floor. Banri's temple smashed onto the linoleum tile and a good moment was spent trying to clear the spots from his vision. His phone clattered out of his hand and skidded away.

“Jesus, the fuck!” he spat. 

“Don’t move. You are guilty of trespassing onto Council property with the intent of theft.” 

He hadn’t even heard this guy coming up behind him. Banri gritted his teeth and tried to get his eyes to focus properly, but the goddamn flashlight in his face wasn't making it easy.

If he got a concussion, he didn’t care who this bullshit magic government thought it was, he was going to go to court and sue them for enough money to get a new Playstation. He reached for his phone and shone his own light at the mysterious dark figure.

Banri admitted that his initial instinct was to pummel the motherfucker that trucked him down but shelved the idea quickly upon seeing his attacker. The aforementioned motherfucker was a six foot tall, musclebound behemoth that looked like he chopped wood as a hobby. 

“Was the WWE body slam necessary,” Banri snapped. He squinted at the lumberjack's name tag. Fushimi. Fuckin’ Fushimi. Who did this guy think he was? Man, Banri hated cops with a burning passion second only to his hatred of statism. 

_“You’re too young to be a libertarian, Banri_ ,” his sister had told him. Well, she was wrong and one day when he took over the whole country and privatized bureaucracy, he’d laugh at her. 

Fuck. He was rambling in his own mind. The knock to the head had been a bit harder than was good for him. 

Fushimi chuckled awkwardly and offered Banri a hand to help him to his feet. “Sorry about that. You’re... not who I’m looking for, are you?” 

“You lookin' for someone?” 

Fushimi nodded. "We got a tip a few days ago that a break-in might be happening today. Usually, Mayor Reni would have heightened security measures in response but he gave unorthodox instructions this time.” 

Banri massaged his forehead and begged his brain to turn properly, concussion be damned. “Hold up. Someone told you?” 

“Anonymously, yes. I’ve been told to not let anybody take anything off the perimeter but to let everyone go after being caught. Everyone except, uh…" He pulled out a scrap of paper from his pocket. “Tenma Sumeragi? We’re supposed to detain that one until the ball is finished and Reni’s back. You wanna tell me where he is and spare me the search?” 

“I’ve never heard of that guy in my life,” Banri said flatly. 

Fushimi sighed and scratched his head. “There’s no use in lying, you know. Who even are you? You’re not on the Mankai Coven register."

Banri fought the urge to stiffen up. They knew _everything_. How did they find out? Who’d snitched? 

“What’s a Coven?” Banri asked, tilting his head to the side. “Dude, like… didn’t know this was so serious of a place or anything. Thought it was a law firm. Sorry to burst your bubble but I’m really not following.” 

“Uh huh, sure, kid.” 

Banri’s thoughts raced. He was blessed, not a magician. If he could just somehow get this Fushimi guy to make him do that water glass test, or anything else, he might be able to convince him he didn't know anything about magic. That this was truly just a coincidence. Hell, maybe if he stalled him long enough, the others would be able to leave. Then the Coven wouldn’t be incriminated at all. 

But how was he supposed to pretend not to know that magic existed without bringing it up? 

“My home boy told me to just come in and find some fireworks, _officer_ ,” Banri said with all the sincerity of the Virgin Mary, although he let himself sneak a little bitterness into that last word. “Dunno why anybody would try to tip you off about a seventeen year old kid breaking into your whatever-the-hell this place is.” 

Fushimi just smiled. “Call me Omi. I only really wear the security outfit when it’s my shift to guard. Who would this alleged friend of yours be?” 

Banri was so damn grateful he lacked empathy as he proceeded to shove Kazunari under the bus like there was no tomorrow. “Miyoshi, I owe him a favor after he helped me find my dog.” 

Note: Banri did not own a dog.

He wanted to, though, one day. A big, golden fluffy little pooch that he could go running with.

Fuck, FOCUS, Banri, fuck your concussion.

Omi blinked. He looked around at the pitch black hallway. “Huh. Kazunari Miyoshi. And the blackout would be because…” 

“Blackout's on me though. You fucks seriously just left the circuit box outside? Weak, man.” 

Banri didn’t know circuitry. Or even if the circuit box was outside. But there was a decent chance the security officer wouldn’t know either. 

Omi hesitated. “What about the Coven?” 

“Dude, are you deaf? I told you, I don’t know what a fuckin’ Coven is.” Banri inched to the side. 

“What’s your name, kid?” 

“I’ll tell you when my fuckin’ lawyer’s present. Miyoshi roped me into this mess, that’s the only name you’re getting.” He looked down the seemingly endless hall and called, “Yo, Miyoshi, there’s a goddamn security officer here, you complete jackass.” 

Omi turned his head to look and that was the only split second Banri needed. The floor was still shifting a little and there was a high pitched buzz in his ears, but Banri took off through the door and sprinted out of the archives as fast as he could. Not even a heartbeat passed until Fushimi was hot on his heels and even though the grizzly bear of a man was fast for his size, Banri could beat the entire track team at his school blindfolded. 

So, very reminiscent of just a month or two ago, Banri ran from a cop like his life depended on it.

* * *

“This blows,” Kazunari mumbled as he wiped the sweat from his brow. 

If the Runes protecting the building had been a nuisance, the Runes on Mayor Reni’s office door were a nightmare brought to reality. 

Misumi nudged Kazunari’s shoulder. “Kazu, didn’t Banri say that the Runes stop, um, magic but not much else?” 

“You know how to lock pick?” 

“No, but I can do this!” The Witch gently eased his friend to the side and then took a deep breath. His foot flashed forward in a high kick. 

The knob of the door fell to the ground. 

Kazunari grabbed fistfuls of Misumi’s sweatshirt and shook him back and forth. “Mister. You. Are. A. Sexy. Beast. Can you teach me how to do that?!” 

“Thanks!” Misumi pushed the door open. “Let’s get looking. I’ll take the left wall.” 

He flicked on the flashlight on his phone. “I’ve got the right then.” 

They both proceeded to rifle through several file cabinets. Mayor Reni didn’t have a lot going for him in the first place so it was a shame the guy was also crap at organization. Seriously, at this day and age, he didn’t bother sorting by the alphabet? Totally bogus. 

Kazunari decided to try the desk drawers of the ostentatious escritoire. Yes, he liked traditional art, but seriously? Carved angels and winged lions? God, Reni needed a class on good taste more than he needed a position in office. The Caster knelt down to open the bottom compartment. Rather than folders like the cabinets, there was only a thick four inch binder nestled inside. He flipped the cover open to take a quick look, couldn’t find the word Watanabe after a quick skim, and shut it. He closed the drawer. 

Kazunari paused. 

He opened the drawer again and took out the binder. He placed it on the desk’s surface and began reading properly. He flipped to the next page. 

What the _fuck?_

Kazunari tried desperately to rub the gooseflesh that had risen away but the chill in his bones refused to go. This felt wrong. This felt very, very wrong. 

“Sumi,” he said softly. “I need you to come look at this.” 

“Hm? What—“ Misumi stopped. His brows crease. “That’s…” 

It wasn’t about Hakkaku Watanabe. It wasn’t throwaway notes. It wasn’t a portfolio of magicians. 

The entire binder, every single page inside, was about Izumi Tachibana. 

Copies of her school records, medical files, credit information, bank statements. Perhaps even more disturbingly, photographs of Izumi. Some where she looked the exact same as she did now, some where she looked a year or two younger, some where she was just barely a toddler, and everything in-between. Notes about where she lived, not even in the city. It was too much to sort through right then and there. Kazunari’s stomach clenched. 

The girl wasn’t looking at the camera in any of these pictures. She didn’t know they were being taken. 

Everything. Every piece of information on an identity that one could write on a document, Kazunari thought, was in his hands. 

He felt like even _holding_ the binder was dirtying him somehow. No one deserved to have this much info about someone else on hand. 

“What the fuck,” Kazunari said quietly and slammed the binder shut. He shot Misumi a look. “This… she needs to know about this. The _fuck?_ ” 

Misumi nodded, a grave look in eye. “That’s not right. Why does the mayor have that?" 

“I don’t know, Sumi. You, uh.” Kazunari cleared his throat. “Did you find anything about Watanabe?” 

“Yeah,” Misumi said. He showed Kazunari the manila folder. “But… it’s just his page.” 

“Shouldn’t the whole family record be in there?" 

Misumi pulled out, as he’d said, the sole sheet of paper there was inside. “There’s a mention of a daughter. M Watanabe. No name, and her page isn’t here either. It was either gone in the first place or someone took it before we did.” 

Kazunari shivered. He reached forward to hold Misumi’s arm in his hand, more for the comfort of another person being close by than any other purpose. “Sumi, we need to go. Now. I have a really bad feeling.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS SO LATE AUUUUUGH, THE NEXT ONE WILL BE UP SOONER. I'm hoping to break 100k words before the 1 month anniversary of this fic in 2 days
> 
> Note: "I didn't wear waterproof mascara but you're not worth smudging my makeup over" is a quote from a friend that I'll never forget
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	16. What Vegetable Even Is This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night is almost done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 quick things before we get into the chapter. WE'VE FINALLY BROKEN 100K WORDS OF THE FIC! Also SURPASSED 200 KUDOS, AH! Exciting!!!

Reni finally broke the tension with a small chuckle. He shook his head. 

“Miss Tachibana, perhaps you’ve had a little too much to drink this evening,” he mused. “Such a pretty young woman like you can’t hold champagne well. I will let this… brazen accusation pass forgotten but I really would prefer you to mind your words prior to speaking next time we have a lovely encounter.” 

“Z, Y, X,” Izumi replied. “W, V, U, T, S, R, Q.” 

The mayor looked baffled. “What are you doing?” 

“Saying the alphabet backwards. It was one of the older field tests policemen asked drivers to do to gauge their level of clear thinking even if they smelled like booze.” Izumi raised her eyebrows. “I can do it as many times as you’d like. I would _love_ an answer to my question in return, though.” 

Reni had the _audacity_ to check his cufflinks the way Yuki checked his cuticles. “I’m afraid I have other, more grounded inquiries to attend to tonight, Miss Tachibana. I shall see you again.” 

She shrugged. “I’m just being courteous. I figured you would like to hear my case before I bring it to the whole Council’s attention.” 

Reni reached forward and gently took Izumi's hand, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. 

He leaned in close and whispered into her ear, “And who would they believe, Miss Tachibana? The Secondborn Witch with a spotless lineage who dedicated his life to the wellbeing of this city’s residents? Or the hysterical ramblings of a _dirty_ , halfblooded Fourthborn stranger who arrived only fortnights ago?” 

She clenched her jaw and stared right into those steely, amethyst eyes. 

Someone put a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at Citron who was smiling wide at the both of them. 

“Mayor, good sir, you will be making me the jealous if you take Director’s attention more!” he cried, voice loud and words slurred. “Director, please do the dance with me next or I may cry!" 

Mayor Reni looked at a loss for words as Citron quite actually _yanked_ Izumi away and sent them both spinning wildly across the dance floor, shoving several other pairs aside. 

“How much did you drink?” Izumi yelped, trying not to twist an ankle. “The flask was empty when I checked!" 

Citron beamed at her. “Director, just because I cannot see the Mayor’s thoughts does not mean I cannot see yours. I do not think punching him in the middle of his own party would put you in the good graces of the Council.” 

Her cheeks went hot. “I wasn’t _going to_. I was just _thinking about it_.” 

Citron shook his head. “No, no. You were going to. It might as well have been set in stone.” 

She let out a heavy sigh and pressed her forehead to Citron’s chest. “I get why Madame Sumeragi hates him so much. What a fucking asshole. He can’t just do that, Citron, he can’t force a bullshit test on Sakuya because he wants to shut Mankai down. If he was going to, I’d at _least_ want him to admit that he’s a petty shithead instead of twisting the truth.” 

“Ah. Politics. The same all around the globe.” 

Izumi had to laugh a _little_. Citron was always refreshing to talk to. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to dance a waltz,” he confessed. “My country had much more fun dances.” 

“I figured. We’ve kind of just been turning in circles for the past minute.” 

The Seer hummed. “Yes, yes… And I would not like to be making enemies tonight. Excuse me.” 

“Huh?” 

Citron gave an exaggerated stumble and pulled himself away from Izumi. 

“Oh nooooooo!” he whined. “It is appears I am too drunken! You there, sir, please amusing Director until I return from the bathroom.” 

Izumi’s eyes widened at the stranger Citron grabbed from the side and forced closer to her. “Huh. Hey, Sakyo.” 

Sakyo looked constipated. Damn, did he hate her pantsuit that much? “Miss Ta—“ 

Izumi gave him a look. 

“…Director.” 

She grinned at him. “You wanna dance?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t know how,” he said stiffly. “Perhaps it’d be better if you relied on another?” 

She took his hand with a chuckle and began slowly turning him around as they stepped back and forth on the dance floor. “It’s easy enough, let me lead.” She only knew _how_ to lead, but he didn’t have to know that. “Just kinda do what I do. I think everyone here’s taken to ignoring me for the sake of their own wellbeing so no one’s going to demand you pay a fine if you mess up.” 

Sakyo sighed like he wasn’t getting paid enough for this event but finally gave in a little and humored her. 

They danced back and forth and Izumi could only assume that Citron was somewhere in the shadows, watching them to keep an eye on both her and Sakyo’s thoughts. 

How were the boys doing, she wondered?

* * *

Banri took a running leap for a window. 

It turned out that a minor concussion fucked with depth perception and spatial awareness more than he’d thought it could. So although the plan had been the execution of a super cool, flawless shattering of glass and an escape to the outside, Banri instead slammed face first into a wall and broke his nose. 

“Motherfucker,” he groaned as he rolled on the carpet, clutching his face. He could already taste the blood. 

_Please, please don’t bruise too badly,_ Banri begged his face as if pleading enough would ensure no black-and-blue. 

The Omi guy, honestly Banri wanted to just call him Paul Bunyan at this point because it was getting ridiculous, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him into the air. 

“You could have made things a lot easier for yourself if you’d just did what you were told,” Omi said sharply. 

“Eat my entire fucking asshole, you cocksucking dipshit,” Banri managed through the pain. “You fucking _pussy_ , I’m going to—“ 

Omi took Banri’s left arm and wrenched it back, shutting the boy up very effectively with a strangled scream. 

He seemed sorry but not enough to ease up on the pressure. “If you can’t _control yourself_ , this is what happens.” 

“Let him go.” 

Omi (and by proxy, Banri) turned around. 

Tenma was standing there, clutching his sword with both hands and feet spread apart. _What a fucking idiot,_ Banri thought to himself bitterly. He’d been supposed to _run away_ , the fuck was he doing there, standing there and trying to play the hero? 

Omi smiled. “Ah. There you are. Tenma Sumeragi, aren’t you? If you’d just come with me—“ 

“Stay back!” Tenma yelled. “Don’t move.” 

“I think you’re in the wrong place to be making orders, kid,” Omi said and took another step forward. “I’ll let your friend go just fine but I’m afraid I have orders not to let you off the premises.” 

“Orders from _who?_ The eggplant jerk wagon that signs your goddamn paychecks?” Tenma snarled. 

The guard raised his eyebrows. “If you mean Mayor Reni, yes. But you should know that Mr. Furuichi is the one who pays me.” 

“Both suck so I don’t really care.” A vein stuck out in Tenma’s neck as he clenched his teeth. A bead of sweat was making its way down the side of his face. “I said not to move. You should know just as well as I do I’ve gotten better Hunter training than you have, whoever the fuck taught you.” 

Omi sighed. “Bloodlines. They never really are different.” 

Banri felt his mouth fill with the taste of iron as the blood from his nose dripped down. He gathered it and let out a pained gurgle. Omi shot him a quick look of alarm and he didn’t miss a beat. He spat out the entire disgusting mess right into the guard’s eyes. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Omi muttered, flinching and reaching up to wipe his face. 

The little loosening of his grip was all Banri needed. He jerked himself free and landed on his feet, leaping a few meters back. His face hurt, his head felt like it was going to kill him, and he was exhausted. Just another weekend, then. 

“Two against one, you ugly motherfucker,” he jeered. 

Omi flicked away the last speck of blood from his face. He did not look pleased in the least. 

“I really don’t want to hurt either of you,” he warned. “You’re making this much more complicated than it has to be.” 

It got unnecessarily “complicated” when it turned out that someone in the Coven couldn’t be trusted, Banri thought to himself bitterly. He didn’t know any of them but if he had to throw a guess out, just from his gut feeling, it was that tall nerd college student. _Never_ trust nerds. Smart people would sell you out for a spotless GPA. It was the people failing their courses that were the real homies. 

“Do you know how to fight?” Banri asked loudly, directing this towards Tenma. 

“Better than you.” 

“Doubtful but whatever.” 

Tenma retracted the blade of his sword with a simple swing and the hilt disappeared into nothingness. Which, Banri admitted to himself, was actually really fucking dope and he’d have to ask how to do it later. Swords were geek shit but maybe he’d vibe with a knife he could pull out whenever he wanted. 

He hurled himself towards Fushimi, fist drawn back. 

Back when he’d been 15, Banri had gotten in major trouble for setting someone’s garden shed on fire. He was loathe to admit it to anyone, but it’d been one of the few times his parents had had enough and thus, the first and only summer he’d spent at boot camp meant for troubled youths. Clearly, he had not been reformed but he _had_ learned something very valuable from those three months. 

Street fighting was throwing punches and duking it out to see who could come out on top. It was why every Big Bad across the school districts was usually just the biggest, heaviest fucker. 

Boot camp had had a one week self-defense regiment but the theory had sunk in. The biggest difference was that specialized, legitimate hand-to-hand combat was meant specifically so that _bigger, stronger, heavier_ didn’t matter. It was about who was faster and more effective. 

Unfortunately, Fushimi also evidently knew this. 

A forearm shoved his fist aside and a foot swept his legs from under him. Banri rolled back onto his feet and kept low. 

A kick aimed at Fushimi’s face. He grabbed his ankle and sank a heavy fist into Banri’s stomach. 

“You’re not a Hunter,” Omi realized, staring down at the boy gasping for breath on the floor. 

“But I am.” 

Tenma rammed an elbow into Omi’s ribs with an ugly snarl on his lips. The guard crumpled to his knees, instantly wrapping his arms around his middle and groaning. 

“Get up,” Tenma growled at Banri. 

He staggered to his feet. “Fuck you, you goddamn carrot looking ass.” 

“I _hate_ carrots.” 

“And I give _such_ a _massive_ shit about your dietary preferences!” 

Omi sighed. “You shouldn’t be getting back up. I told you, I don’t want to hurt either of you. You’re just drawing out the inevitable. You can hardly move in the state you’re in, how do you expect to beat me? Even if it is two on one.” 

It hurt to laugh. Banri settled on a sole chuckle and then just a sneer. 

“There’s this kid I knew,” he bit out. He paused. “Know. There’s this kid I know. The most pathetic bitch you’ve ever met. But you’d best believe he can pack a hell of a better punch than you can. You think this,” he gestured at his face, “is the worst I've been through? Not even close.” 

Omi pursed his lips and parted his feet. “I warned you.”

* * *

Tsuzuru held up a strange vegetable speared by his fork. “Do you have any idea what this might be?” 

“No,” Izumi said. 

He sighed. “Rich people eat the weirdest things. I’ve never even seen this before.” 

She drummed her fingers on the tabletop and glanced at Citron who was standing by the potted plant, eyes trained on Sakyo. In any other situation, it might have been suspicious, but his long dress robes were emerald green and he blended in like a chameleon. Not a movement, which meant they were still in the clear. He would give her a signal if any alert graced the Hunter’s mind. 

The boys shouldn’t be _taking_ this long, why wasn’t Matsukawa sending her a text yet? 

“I’m going to get some more prawns,” Tsuzuru announced as he stood up. “Did you know that prawns are just giant shrimp? Wild. Didn’t even know they came in that size. Can I trust you to stay still and not get in trouble for the forty-five seconds it’ll take for me to get to the refreshments table and back?” 

Izumi huffed. “I’m six years older than you, kid, don’t get such a fat head.” 

“I really… don't have that much respect for your seniority anymore. Not ever since watching you try to pick up the TV remote with your toes for thirty minutes,” Tsuzuru said quite seriously. 

“I’D JUST GOTTEN COMFORTABLE ON THE COUCH. I WASN’T GOING TO GET NOT-COMFORTABLE FOR A REMOTE WHEN IT WAS RIGHT THERE.” 

“It was for an entire half hour, Director, get some dignity,” he said shortly but left nonetheless. 

Izumi made sure he had his eyes trained on the prawns before getting out of her seat and scurrying through the dancing masses. 

“Hey,” she said breathlessly when she found the frankly horrifying green hat. “Homare, right? Really sorry about my friend from earlier, he can be a little rude sometimes. A lot of the time. Most of the time, but generally towards me and we have a mutual thing going on in that regard, not usually towards other people. Sorry, rambling, basically wanted to ask, do you want to finish the dance? I feel really bad.” 

Homare looked surprised. He put down his pink drink (was that Strawberry Calpis? Where had they been serving _that_ at the ball?) on the table and cleared his throat. 

“Madam, are you drunk?” he asked politely. 

Izumi nodded. “Oh, for sure, champagne is awful but mix like two bottles with half a flask of vodka and even an elephant would stumble a bit.” 

Homare gasped as he placed a hand on his chest, very Southern-Belle style. “A flask to the ball? I’m appalled the thought never occurred to me. They never have good drink at fancy events.” 

“Right? At least you get it.” 

He bowed deeply. “I would be honored to finish the dance.” 

“ _Amazing_ , but could you take that hat off? It’s really easy to find you when you have it on.” 

“It completes my look.” 

Izumi coughed into her fist. “Yeah, I know.” 

Homare sighed but placed his hat delicately on his seat. At his table. Which was empty except for him. The high school analogy for upper society was continuing to prove itself. 

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand delicately. 

“Absolutely.” Izumi took his hand and led him to the dance floor.

* * *

This Omi guy was built like a fucking brick wall, Banri thought to himself as he skidded a small distance on his side from a well-placed kick. Also, there was a good chance one of his ribs was fractured because breathing was starting to hurt. Every hit from him felt like getting slammed by a miniature freight train. He didn’t care if Hunter magic was supposed to be an explanation, a person shouldn’t be able to punch that hard. 

“Kid, you _have_ to stop getting up,” Omi pleaded. “You’re not a Hunter, your healing speed isn’t going to be the same as ours.” 

Tenma went for a tackle and promptly got grabbed, then thrown over Omi’s shoulder like a bag of flour. He hit the floor with a sickeningly mushy thud and retched as the air flew from his lungs. 

“Both of you just need to learn when to quit it. I’m a professional, the two of you won’t be able to beat me. Please, we can stop the violence now.” 

Banri hated cops, Banri hated cops, Banri hated cops. 

But he hated condescending language even more. 

“I’m going to fucking _kill_ you,” he snarled, spittle flying from his lips as he dragged his body off of the floor and onto his knees. “I’m going to fucking murder you, do you hear me?” 

Omi’s eyebrows drew together like he was sad to hear this. “I was like you, you know. How old are you?”

“Eat my dick.” 

“Seventeen, I’d guess. It’s not good to work with bad people like these just because you’re bored, or you’re confused. There’s always another—“ 

“You talk too much.” 

Omi whirled around but it was too late. Masumi swung something hard and heavy into the back of Omi’s skull and watched, bored, as the man slammed against the floor. Out cold. 

“Took you enough fucking time,” Tenma snapped. “Were you _taking a stroll_ when I told you to find Misumi and Kazunari?” 

Masumi shrugged. “A good song came up. You’re supposed to appreciate music." 

“I’M GOING TO CLOBBER YOU.” 

Misumi ran forward and kneeled in front of the security officer. He checked to make sure that Omi was still breathing and then placed his hand over his face. He shot a few blue sparks forward and nodded. 

“He’ll be sleeping until I wake him back up,” he said, looking up. “Uh. What do we do now? Does anyone know?” 

Kazunari helped Banri to his feet. “Jesus, dude, what happened to your face? Did that guard put his knee into your nose or something, crap, you’re totally bleeding.” 

Banri hesitated. Saying he’d gotten hit was a lot less humiliating than admitting that he’d been a little off his mark and face-planted into the wall. “Yeah, it was the asshole’s fault. You know a healing spell or shit?” 

Kazunari grimaced. “I’m really sorry, no. I’ve got a Bandage Rune but that’s for like minor cuts and bruises. You’re going to have to wait until we get back to the dorms. Will you be alright?” 

He’d live. He directed Kazunari to help him stand over the guard. The back of his head was already matted with a little blood. 

“What the fuck did you hit him with?” he grunted. 

Masumi tossed the weapon into the air and caught it. “Doorknob.” 

“A doorknob.” 

“My doorknob!” Misumi cheered. “I kicked it out. Yay! I helped!” 

Kazunari swallowed. “If… Okay, he only saw you and Ten, right? He probably doesn’t know who _you_ are, so we could probably just leave. Convince him he only hallucinated Tenten. Then the Sumeragis can accuse the Council of lying because of their bias against their family. It’s okay, we can still all get out of this just fine. LEt’s split, we got all the information we needed.” 

Banri almost agreed. Trying to fish coherent thoughts from his stream of consciousness was like trying to scoop marbles out of a vat of melted chocolate. “No, we can’t. We have to bring him with us.” 

“What? Banny—“ 

“Don’t call me that.” Banri rubbed his eye and winced when his finger touched his nose. “There’s… something he said. That the Director needs to know. Can’t leave him here. Just fucking listen to me, alright!” 

Kazunari gave him a little comforting jostle. “Whoa, there. Okay, okay, you can calm down. We’ll… we’ll bring him with us. Sumi, are you strong enough to hold him?” 

“I can if Tenma helps!” Misumi said sweetly. He took one of Omi’s arms and strained to lift him. 

Tenma sighed and let magic flood into his muscles once again to assist. 

So it was just like that all five, now technically six, left the Council’s Main Hall. Kazunari essentially carrying half of Banri’s body weight. Tenma and Misumi carrying _all_ of Omi’s body weight. And Masumi tossing-and-catching that doorknob like he was _bored_. The bitch even had his headphones in. As soon as they cleared the threshold, Kazunari waved his hands to release the Runes. The lights of the building flickered back on behind them. 

“ _That doesn’t look good!_ ” Kamekichi screamed as he flew down. “ _Why do you have a body! Did you kill someone?_ ” 

Banri grabbed the bird by his bowtie. “Do I look like I’m in the mood?” 

“ _Let go, asshole!_ ” 

He chucked the bird back into the sky above them, where Kamekichi circled while crowing obscenities at the “bird abuse.” 

“Just tell the Director we’re going back home,” Banri spat. 

Misumi, at least, laughed a little at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “I really hope no one asks about the guard on the train!” 

…Right. They had an hour long train ride ahead of them. 

Fuck.

* * *

Izumi’s phone buzzed in her pantsuit pocket. 

“Sorry, I have to go take this,” she said to the Thirdborn Witch she’d been dancing with, some pinkhaired guy named Naruto or Harold or something. 

Her dance partner stiffened and then awkwardly shuffled away. “I—okay. Whatever. Rude.” 

She accepted the call. “News?” 

“ _Kamekichi told me they just left the building. He was rambling pretty heavily but I don’t think they’re doing too hot._ ” 

“They got hurt?” Izumi whispered in horror. “Oh, god, no. Okay, okay, tell them I’ll be there as soon as possible, I’m leaving now. I’ll make it in like an hour and twenty minutes.” 

“ _You got it, Director_. _”_

Izumi quickly paced towards the table where Tsuzuru was lying on, overstuffed but outrageously pleased by the evening thus far. 

“It’s done. We’re heading back,” she whispered. “C’mon, help me find the others.” 

He slowly heaved himself off the chair and patted his stomach. “Free food is good by default of being free, but… today was amazing. Thank you for the invitation again, Director, it meant a lot to me.” 

“You’re such a sweetheart sometimes but we’re going to have to rush it. Matsukawa said the boys got hurt.” 

“H—” Tsuzuru’s lips clamped shut like he’d barely stopped himself from yelling the word. He nodded once. “I’ll go grab Citron, you go find the kids. They’re still probably on the dance floor, I’m not sure how they have so much energy but good for them.” 

“See you at the door in five minutes.” 

Izumi excused herself through the hoard of swaying bodies to find Yuki, Muku, and Sakuya near the very center. They all looked like they were having such fun, cheeks rosy and eyes lit. They’d completely abandoned trying to copy the pairs around them and had instead discovered an interesting waltz that incorporated three people instead of two. 

“Job’s over, guys, it’s time to head back,” she said, feeling a little bad for ending the party. 

“What? But it’s not even that late yet,” Yuki protested. 

Izumi sighed. She didn’t have time for this. “The boys are back but things might be an emergency. We need to head back now, I need Citron and Tsuzuru as backups and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here without an adult.” 

“But—!” 

“No _buts_ , Muku.” 

Sakuya cleared his throat nervously and raised his hand. “Um. I… I’m technically an adult, Director.” 

She looked at him. “Come again?” 

His face burned red, matching both his hair and his suit. “N-Not like really, of course! But… I’m eighteen. So—so it’s okay if you head back without us. I’ll keep an eye on Muku and Yuki and head back to the dorms when the party actually finishes up.” 

Izumi felt like the world had frozen. Or at the very least, her own time had frozen but the world around her was still turning. She felt that weird wave of emotion again, sadness and pride. 

“I guess you are,” she said slowly. Alright, then. She slapped a hand on Sakuya’s shoulders. “No later than midnight. If the train looks unsafe, take a taxi and I’ll pay once you get back.” 

Sakuya brightened. “Yes! Of course!” 

Izumi put a hand on both Muku and Yuki’s heads (the latter of which slapped her hand away because “Do you know how much product I have in there right now, you’re going to mess it up!”). “You two listen to Sakuya. If I hear even the possibility of early-onset teenage rebellion, I’ll have you plant an entire barrel of potato seedlings. Are we clear?” 

The two boys nodded enthusiastically. 

She drew away. “Okay. I’m trusting all three of you.” 

Man… they really do grow up so fast when you’re not looking.

* * *

When Banri unlocked the door to the dorms, the first thing he noticed was that, despite being pitch black, the dorm was _not_ empty. There was a snuffling, eating sound coming from inside. 

That would really be the cherry on top of the so-far-fantastic evening, wouldn’t it? Walking into their dorms and finding that a homeless man had broken in only to help himself to the goddamn kitchen. Banri slammed his hand on the light switch, telling himself that he would not hesitate to beat the shit out of whoever was there. 

Instead of a vagrant, Banri instead was greeted with the sight of a man sitting cross legged on the floor hunched over what looked like a bowl. Blond hair, a (pretty fuckin’ sweet) yellow jersey, baggy sweat pants and. Goat horns. And hooves. 

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” Banri asked. 

Itaru looked up, mouth smeared in green goop. He held up the open Tupperware of guacamole he’d been caressing more intimately than a lover. “Wanted some food before I head back in for a new round. You’re that blessed, aren’t you? I don’t care to polish my memory on human faces. Don’t remember you being purple thought." 

Banri covered his nose and refused to get embarrassed about it. “Are you eating guacamole straight with a spoon? Bro, you’ve never heard of fucking tortilla chips?” 

“There’s no time for chips, the game's in like two min. Is your whole heist over?” 

“Baaaanri! Where are we supposed to drop him off?” Misumi asked as he and Tenma hobbled in with Omi on their shoulders. 

Itaru popped the spoon out of his mouth. “Were you supposed to bring back a human? I don’t remember that ever coming up.” 

“No,” Banri said flatly. “Just put him somewhere fuckin’ private and not out in the open” 

“Okaaaaay! Basement it is. Let’s go, Tenma!” 

Tenma’s knees were shaking. “God, how much does this guy weigh?” 

“You’re not going to ask for an explanation, are you?” Banri asked. 

Itaru seemed to consider it for a moment. He finally settled on, “You’re going to tell the Director, right?” 

“Pretty sure I have to.” 

“Cool, I’ll just ask her to summarize it all in the morning. Gonna go play. Don’t make too much noise or I’ll fucking no scope you.” 

Banri rubbed his eyes. Was this really the terrifying demon he’d seen flying above the corpses and setting them on fire a few weeks ago? Man, maybe his parole officer had been right about video games rotting brains and ruining inherent potential. 

He walked to living room and crashed down on the arm chair. His face hurt like a bitch and so did his entire midsection. Fuckin’ blowed. And yet, somehow, this was admittedly not the worst weekend he’d had. 

Izumi dropped her clutch and let out a heartbroken whimper when she walked in a few minutes later. 

“Oh, Banri,” she whispered. She leaned in to get a better look at the black and blue that had completely overtaken his complexion. “How did you get like this?” 

He got up and gestured to her room. “Private talk. _Please_ tell me you know a way to fix this.” 

“I know a few healing spells, it’ll fix most of it.” 

Thank God because if Banri went home later that night on a new color spectrum, his parents were going to sell his TV. 

The healing took five minutes and left Izumi feeling nauseous afterwards. But at least Banri would finally be in a state to talk without aching. “What _happened_ to you all?" 

“We ran into a guard,” Banri said simply. 

Izumi flinched. “The guard hurt you?” 

“Uh. Sure.” He rubbed the repaired bridge of his nose. 

“Did… he catch a look at your face?” 

“Sure did. But I wouldn’t worry if I were you, we knocked him out.” 

Izumi took in a sharp breath. Oh _no_. “Banri, how in the world does that solve our problem? They’re just going to question him when he wakes up.” 

“We brought him with us,” he said. 

“HUH?” She blinked a few times. “Where is he?!” 

Banri shot a quick look at the ground. 

“ _YOU KILLED AND BURIED HIM?_ ” 

“Holy sh—crap, what? No, Jesus Christ. He’s sleeping in the basement. That nut job with the blue hair said it would be the best place to hide him.” 

She rubbed her forehead as a strange mesh of panic and dread began stirring in her stomach. “Misumi is _not_ a nut job, don’t be rude to him." 

Suddenly, Banri’s words actually processed. Izumi seized him by the front of his shirt and began shaking him back and forth violently. 

“YOU KIDNAPPED A GUARD?” Izumi bellowed. 

“IT WAS THE ONLY CHOICE WE HAD!” Banri bellowed back. “YOU’RE TALKING TO A CONCUSSION PATIENT, STOP SHAKING ME." 

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO _RUN,_ BANRI! RUN! NOT KNOCK HIM OUT!” 

“LIKE A FUCKING PUSSY?” Banri shoved her off of him. 

Izumi gaped at him and seemed to struggle to find the words. She stomped out of the room. 

“What’s going—?” 

“Do not ask, Tsuzuru. That is not the best of the good idea right now.” 

Izumi came back, slamming a mug on her desk so hard it nearly shattered. 

“ _PUT A HUNDRED YEN IN THE SWEAR JAR, BANRI_ ,” she screamed, near tears in frustration. 

Fuck this. He hadn’t gone through that amount of bullshit to get talked down to like a criminal. Banri dug into his pocket and took out his wallet and handed her 1000 yen instead. Izumi looked at the bill and then sighed, the fight draining out of her. 

“You’re going to rant, aren’t you,” she said softly. 

“FUCK YOU,” he snapped. “AND YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK THIS COVEN, FUCK MAGIC SOCIETY, FUCK THAT BITCH WHO CONCUSSED ME FOR LOOKING LIKE HE SNORTS FUCKING PROTEIN POWDER, I HOPE EVERY _MOTHERFUCKING_ ASSCLOWN I MADE EYE CONTACT WITH IN THE PAST THREE HOURS _BURNS IN HELL._ ” 

She hesitated. He’d had a rough night, after all, maybe she would give him a discount for Bitch just this one time. “Okay, so do I give you a hundred yen back as change or…?” 

Banri threw his wallet on the floor like it was a game-ending Draw 4 card. “AND WHERE THE _EVERLOVING FUCKHOLE_ IS HYODO, I’M GOING TO PUNCH HIM!” 

She took a seat on the edge of her bed and crossed her legs. She could wait until Banri had worn himself out. His chest heaved like each breath was too warm for comfort but steadily, slowly, began to wind down. 

He sat right there on her floor, crossing his legs. “I went through a lot tonight.” 

“I can tell. I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would have gotten…” She gestured vaguely. “So out of hand. I’m glad you made it out safe, I should have known you guys are too young and that a mistake might come up.” 

Right. He’d almost forgotten. “We didn’t make a mistake and it wasn’t a fluke. He _knew_.” 

“Huh?” 

“The Fushimi guy. He knew we were going to be there. He said the mayor had told him, and that they got an anonymous tip.” 

She hesitated. “He knew someone was going to break in?” 

“Even more. He knew _we_ were going to break in. The fucking…” Banri dragged a hand over his face. “Sorry. It slipped out. I don’t have money so I’ll write you an IOU later. Fushimi took one look at me and exclaimed all about how I ‘wasn’t in the Coven.’ And how he was told to keep Sumeragi on the site until the Mayor came back.” 

Izumi’s face paled. 

“Does the Council have a list of all the people who live here?” he asked suddenly. 

“N-Not all. Sakuya, Muku, Masumi… they’re students so they have to be registered. Tenma’s a minor as well as a teacher, so he’s registered too.” She racked her brain. “They know that Citron is teaching here but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have a file on him. I hardly know anything about that guy myself. Um… They don’t know about Misumi, Juza, or you.” 

“Because I’d be arrested if they knew the whole story,” Banri guessed. “And you wouldn’t look good if you admitted to have a wraith here." 

“You betcha. They should know about Matsukawa and me. Not Kazunari, since he doesn’t live or teach here.” She laughed quietly to herself. “Even though he might as well by this point, he pops by enough.” 

Banri sighed slowly, exhaustion settling heavy on his bones. “They knew the Coven was going to break in but they didn’t know who was in the Coven. Director, someone must have told—“ 

“No,” she said immediately. 

“ _Listen to me_. You can’t ignore a knife in your back just because it’s an ugly truth. Someone told the Council what we were going to do, there’s no other answer.” 

Izumi silenced him with a dangerous glare. “I know everybody here and I trust them all. No one would do such a thing.” 

“You’re being willfully blind.” 

“And you’re claiming guilty until proven innocent.” She stood up and opened her door. “Get out. I need to think.” 

He scowled and got up. He shoved his hands into his pockets and plodded out. 

“You better think fast,” Banri spat over his shoulder. “Before the snitch gets another word out and the Council’s breaking down the front door to get Fushimi back.” 

Izumi bit her lip until it started to hurt.

* * *

She stepped out of her room ten minutes later with a lantern in hand. Pantsuit off, baggy sweats on. Business time. 

“Tsuzuru, Misumi, Citron,” she said curtly, jerking her head towards the bathroom. “Basement. Now.” 

“Okaaaay,” Misumi sang, hopping off of the couch. 

Tsuzuru frowned mid-pour of orange juice. “Why?” 

“Apparently they brought back a hostage.” 

He fumbled with the carton as he let out a horrified shriek. “A HOSTAGE? HELLO?” 

Tsuzuru whipped his head towards Kazunari, eyes half furious and half pleading. Like he was begging God to let a denial come from Kazunari’s mouth. 

The other Caster just laughed sheepishly. “Boys’ Night gets wild, Tsuzuroon. Your bad for missing out, you know!” 

Tsuzuru raised his hands and they froze in the air, his fingers twitching wildly. Like he was just barely holding back from strangling his friend. He opened and closed his mouth. Citron chuckled and commented something or other about how he wished he could join this elusive “Boys’ Night” next time. 

“You can have your mental breakdown _later,_ Minagi,” Izumi snapped. “Come on.” 

He turned towards her and let his arms flop to his side. She sounded as tired as he felt but her jaw was set in a way that made it clear Izumi would have to collapse before she gave up. 

Tsuzuru nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” 

Izumi forced open the trapdoor and began making her descent. 

Someone had lit and left the multiple candles on, giving the room a small bit of light. There, slumped over and tied to the rotting chair with a Rune’s red twine, was a burly young man with brown hair cut short. Izumi gently took him by the chin and raised his face to inspect it. He didn’t have any visible marks, just a little nick by his jawline that was old and already scarred over. He didn’t look very old—definitely not older than her. 

Tsuzuru sighed gloomily and closed his eyes. “This Coven has not been good for my self image. Another buff, good looking guy? Maybe I should start drinking protein shakes.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Not the best time to make that self-criticism. Just saying.” 

“I think you’re great the way you are, Tsuzuru!” Misumi said, giving him a firm pat on the back. “Kazu always says you’re the sexiest Caster in the city.” 

“That’s…” He went quiet for a moment. “You know what, Misumi, that did make me feel a little better. Thank you.” 

“No problem!” 

Izumi wondered when the Coven dorms had turned into a large tent and all of its inhabitants had turned into clowns. “Misumi, can you lift the spell?” 

“Yep, yep, let me do it now.” 

As Misumi covered the guard’s eyes with his palms and focused his magic, Izumi put the lantern on the table. She flicked it on and went around the room to blow out the candles. Even if the room was stone, she couldn’t shake the concern that they were a fire hazard. 

“Wh… ugh…” 

Citron had woken up much faster when the spell had been cast on him, but then again, the Seer had been oddly conscious throughout the ordeal. It only made sense this stranger was struggling to get his bearings. 

“Easy does it,” Izumi chided as he began struggling against his bindings. “It’s alright, don’t, uh, don’t work yourself into knots there.” 

“Man, you’re a pro at talking down nervous prisoners, aren’t you,” Tsuzuru said sarcastically. 

Izumi reached up her hands and gently stroked his eyebrows with the pads of her thumbs. “I’m gonna miss these two fuzzy little caterpillars.” 

“Every one of your eyebrow threats have been empty. I’m not scared of them anymore.” 

“Oh, you will be,” she said softly. “You will be _very_ scared.” 

“She means it,” Citron offered. 

“What’s… where am I?” the guard slurred, eyes still dilated. 

Misumi grinned. “This is home!” 

“Hhhhhhhome?” 

Izumi cleared her throat and put a hand on the Witch’s shoulder. “Thanks for lifting the spell, Misumi. Maybe you should head on up.” 

“Okay! Can I have the last bag of fruit snacks?” 

“Ask Banri if he wants it, the kid broke his nose and he deserves first pick. If he says no, it’s all yours.” 

“Yay!” 

The guard blinked a few times until he finally could focus his vision. He frowned deeply. 

“You’re Izumi Tachibana,” he muttered. “Did those two kids _actually_ do me in? I’m losing my touch.” 

“Three,” she said as though that would console him. “What’s your name?” 

The guard sealed his mouth. Izumi clicked her tongue and looked at Citron. 

The Seer leaned in close to the guard and pressed his finger to his chin, tilting his head up. 

“What is your name?” Citron repeated with a kind whisper. “…Omi Fushimi? How nice. I like that name." 

The guard’s eyes widened. He tore his face out of Citron’s grip. 

“You’re the Seer they brought in from overseas,” Omi said darkly. “What? You’re going to take all the information you can out of me? And then cut off parts of my body to either use or sell?” 

Izumi’s eyebrows shot straight up into her hairline. “Oh my god, what? Huh? Holy crap, you really went right to ten and skipped one through nine, didn’t you? What kind of monsters do you think we are!” 

Omi narrowed his eyes. “The kind to use _kids_ as weapons.” 

Izumi held up her palm. “I swear with God as my witness, Banri was like that when we found him.” 

“You do not believe in God, Director,” Citron murmured. 

“NOT the time to make that statement, Citron! It’s really not!” 

“The tip was right,” Omi whispered. “The _Mayor_ was right. All of you can’t be trusted at all.” 

Izumi held up her hand again. “I swear with, uh, Jeanne D’Arc as my witness, we weren’t planning on doing _anything_ evil. We just wanted to collect a file on Hakkaku Watanabe to fortify properly against future potential risks.” 

“Jeanne D’Arc?” Tsuzuru repeated judgmentally. 

She sighed. “You know, Tsuzuru, Citron. Usually, in the movies, when the head leader is questioning the guy in the chair, the two people standing behind her are quiet, respectful, and stick to just appearing menacing. You guys think you could do that for me?” 

“Ooh, you’re in for a disappointment.” 

“I do not think so, no!” 

Izumi shut her eyes. “Thought so. Can’t sue a girl for hoping.” 

Omi cleared his throat. 

“Right, right, sorry.” Izumi clicked her tongue as she thought. “So Reni knew that we were going to break in?” 

He narrowed his eyes and remained silent. 

“Citron.” 

The Seer nodded. “Yes. The Mayor did.” 

“But Sakyo didn’t know a thing at the ball,” she suddenly remembered. 

“That is also true.” 

She bit her thumb. “Hm. Wow. There are a lot of questions and I’m not even sure where to begin asking, much less guess the answers. You loyal to the Council?” 

“Yes,” Omi said without a hesitation. 

“Cool.” Izumi waved her hand. “Tsuzuru, wipe his memory.” 

Tsuzuroon cleared his throat and put his hand on Izumi’s back, pushing her towards the stairwell. “Director, actually, can I talk to you in private for a minute?” 

“What now?” she hissed, voice low. 

He sucked in a breath. “I don’t think erasing his memories is the best course of action here. And, yes, I do say that out of an interest that stems from self-preservational instincts. There’s just no way the Council hasn’t found out by now that Officer Fushimi is gone and if Reni knew about the break in… then we’re going to be the prime suspects for his disappearance. Memory wiping isn’t going to change that. Honestly, if anything, we’re, and I mean I’m, going to get charged additionally for practicing illegal Runes.”

She gritted her teeth. “But what—?” 

“I’m going to propose something just… absolutely wild but I am begging you on my knees to just consider it.” Tsuzuru wrung his hands nervously. “What if… what if we just… you know. Keep… him.” 

Izumi opened her mouth and shut it. She looked away silently. 

“Wow, not even a reaction,” Tsuzuru mused. 

“Give me a second, I’m just a little shocked. It’s incredible how you turned your nose up at memory wiping but you’re just super on board with kidnapping and imprisonment,” she said flatly. 

He looked a little ashamed but not nearly enough as the situation called for. “I’m _just saying_. They don’t have a Seer on the Council, they won’t be able to find Officer Fushimi if we hide him somewhere. They might be the magic government but they don’t have much power in magic-less environments, so… so Muku’s parents’ house would be a great place to hide him. I’m just saying.” 

“I don’t think the Council’s going to be accusing you any time soon.” 

The two of them glanced at the trapdoor as Kazunari’s face popped out. He waved, although with a little less cheer than he would have usually. “Hi hi. Miyoshi reporting in.” 

“Kazunari, we’re a little busy right now,” Izumi muttered. 

“Yeahhhh… I think you’re going to wanna know about this.” He opened the flap to his messenger bag and held out a binder. “I swear I didn’t look into it that much. Just enough to find out it was super, duper wrong.” 

Well, that didn’t sound promising. Izumi flipped open the cover and Tsuzuru craned his neck to get a look as well. 

“Mary and Jacob,” Tsuzuru whispered immediately. He rubbed his arms like he’d just caught a chill. “That's not something a good christian would do.” 

Izumi’s fingers tightened on the page that so proudly showed her most recent medical form. She flipped the page to find a few pictures. The next to show receipts and _school forms_. 

“What the fuck?” she blustered. She looked up. “Where in the world did you get this?” 

Kazunari looked like she would hate the answer to that question more than the binder itself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Banri's nose. (There are a few typos but I’ll edit them in a few hours since I’m going to pass out)
> 
> I know this chapter is a confusing mess but I promise the next will answer some of the more important questions. Thank you for reading, as always!


	17. We Do Not Leave Important Things Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honored to report that this fic has gotten TWO works of art!!! :'DDDD I can't even begin to express how happy and FULFILLED I FEEL ABOUT THIS and i implore you guys check it out because both are AMAZING
> 
> https://twitter.com/kafkanism/status/1280351034808979457?s=20
> 
> https://twitter.com/ForgottenBrolly/status/1280546477626949633?s=20
> 
> Thank you to both of these two artists, i feel absurdly giddy and overwhelmed
> 
> now
> 
> onto a slightly more serious note
> 
> Content Warnings for this chapter: A confrontation with past abusive guardian(s). Abusive language.

“You called for me?” Masumi asked, appearing not even ten seconds after Kazunari had left to go fetch him. 

“Did you tell anybody about the break in plan?” she demanded. “Is there any way someone could have found out from you?” 

Masumi shook his head, eyes immediately burning with fire. “I’d rather eat broken glass than betray you like that. I love you.” 

Izumi held up her hands and winced. “Wow, a simple no would have worked. Didn’t think so, but…” She glanced at Citron who shot her a thumbs up. “Right. You’re in the clear. Masumi, I’m leaving you in charge for a few minutes. Make sure Omi doesn’t move." 

He looked a little off put by her tone. “What’s wrong? What happened, do you need my help? I’ll do anything you need me to do to make you feel better.” 

“The best help I can get from you right now is a watchful eye,” she said flatly. She turned to Tsuzuru. “Did you tell Mayor Reni we were going to break in?” 

Tsuzuru actually let out a single, borderline hysterical, “ _HA_.” 

“Answer the question. I know you didn’t but I need to make sure.” 

“Director, you know the term, ‘I’m in too deep’? I think both of us know that if anything the Coven’s shoved under the rug comes out, I’m the one who’d face the most repercussions out of any of us.” Tsuzuru ran his fingers through his hair as his eyes unfocused and he tried to imagine the hypothetical future. “I’d be arrested _and_ disowned from my family. And that’s the best case scenario, the worst is that my mother would just flat out murder me in cold blood. I’d become a cautionary tale for my younger brothers!" 

She glanced at Citron who gave her another thumbs up. 

“Cool, glad to know we’re in a Mutually Assured Destruction agreement,” Izumi said with little amusement and began ascending the stairs. “Citron, I’m going to need you to double-check all the answers.” 

“Of course, Director.” 

Kazunari was sitting between Misumi’s legs in the living room as he showed him something on his phone. Banri was splayed out on the couch, dozing off. Tenma was on the armchair, looking equally exhausted but charged with a nervous energy that had yet to die out. 

“All of you,” she barked. 

They glanced at her. 

“Did any of you tell _anybody_ outside of this Coven about the plan tonight?” 

All four of them immediately began protesting. 

“ONE BY ONE.” She pointed to Misumi. 

“No! Never, not anyone,” he swore. 

Kazunari. “C’mon, Director, you know I’m not a snake. I wouldn’t do you dirty like that.” 

Banri. Who just gave her a dirty look and pointed at his (fixed) face. Right, it wouldn’t make sense for Banri to be the snitch if he’d been the one who told her in the first place. 

Tenma. “Absolutely not. They were planning on keeping me there, why would they do that if I was the one who told?” 

“None of them have lied,” Citron murmured. 

She pursed her lips. “Didn’t think they would. We’ll ask the others when they get back. I can’t imagine any of them being guilty but you can never be too safe. Did Juza know about the plan?” 

Citron shook his head. “No. Not unless Muku told him.” 

Izumi clicked her tongue. “We’ll still ask him when he's back at three. Just to be sure. Citron, Tsuzuru, follow me to the office. We’ll have to question Citron separately since I can’t have him putting himself in the clear.” 

“Yes, Director.” 

She closed the door behind them and flicked the lights on. Citron held up his hands in a clear surrender. 

“I can answer any test you give me,” he said softly. “Anything to prove my innocence.” 

Izumi rolled her eyes and slammed the binder on the desk. She collapsed onto her chair and buried her face in her arms. 

Citron cleared his throat. “…Director?” 

She couldn’t bring herself to raise her head. 

“Director, are you okay?” Tsuzuru asked. “I don’t, um, I don’t have a Truth Rune. If that’s what you’re going to ask me to do. I don’t think that exists." 

Izumi let out a shuddering breath and finally sat up again. Maybe drinking had been a bad idea after all. She was _frazzled_ and couldn’t make heads or tails of the entire night. Maybe she wouldn’t be so frenzied if she was sober, she thought bitterly. 

“I lied, I’m not going to question Citron,” Izumi confessed in a low voice. “I just need the boys to think I did.” 

Citron’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side. 

“You will not?” he asked. 

Tsuzuru skipped being surprised and went straight for exasperated. “You do realize he’d the most suspicious out of _all_ of us, right? Strange magician from a new country that we know nothing about?” 

Izumi smiled sadly. 

“Tsuzuru, if you can look me in the eyes and tell me. Tell me _honestly_ that you doubt Citron’s loyalty to our Coven, I’ll cut him from the staff,” she said simply. “No questions asked. He’s out. Do you think Citron did it?” 

The Caster opened and shut his mouth. He glanced at the door as though to make sure it was shut and then let himself fall into one of the chairs opposite her. 

“No,” he said with a weak shrug. “I don’t.” 

Citron blinked a few times in surprise and then beamed. 

“So why did you question _me?_ ” Tsuzuru muttered, a bit sore. 

“Can’t hurt to check the ones I can. If I didn’t have Citron there, I would have trusted you just as much.” Izumi rested her forehead back on her hand. She sniffled. 

Citron rubbed her back. “Do not cry, Director.” 

“I didn’t want _any_ of this,” she whispered. “I just wanted to… teach magic and make sure Sakuya grew up well, and if a few more students joined, then good for me. Good for them. Good for magic society! Magicians need teachers but I didn’t want any of _this_ ,” she gestured wildly, “bullshit to deal with. I mean, come on, what the fuck!” 

Izumi slammed her hand on the binder. 

“Who would do something like this?” she spat angrily. “Forget 'invasion of privacy,' this is unreal levels of fucking creepy I’ve never even imagined. What kind of business does Reni have owning _any_ information on me? Let alone all of… I've never even lived in this goddamn city!" 

“You didn’t?” 

“ _No_. I was born in Akita and I’ve lived there ever since with my mom.” Izumi rubbed her eyes and fought the urge to just scream until her throat gave in. “My dad stayed here for the Coven. He visited Akita for holidays, I came down here sometimes, but we never spent much time together. What is going on?” 

Tsuzuru sighed. “Kazunari is right, though. Reni can’t touch us anymore if we have this. I’m sorry to say it but… this is leverage. He’s already on thin ice amongst the Bloodlines in this city, if you showed everyone what he had on you, he’d be ruined.” 

“No,” Izumi said quietly. “You’re wrong.” 

“Um?” 

Her lips twisted as she recalled Reni’s scathing words. “There’s no credibility. He’d deny having anything to do with this binder and claim we’re just trying to frame him. Confessing how we found it already puts us in a poor light. Then, with our friend Omi down in the basement, there’s no way we can look like anything _but_ the bad guys. We’re not going to tell people about the binder. We’re not going to tell people about Omi.” 

“Director—“ 

“It’s just me, Tsuzuru,” she snapped. “If it were anybody else in the Coven, or, Christ, one of the _students_ he was being creepy about, you know I’d be dragging his ass into the main square for public humiliation. But it’s just me. Just… me. And I can take it if I’m the only one. We’re not going to rock the boat anymore than we have already.” 

Tsuzuru looked too tired to argue. “Fine. Fine. I’m _so sorry_ for having the audacity to worry about you.” 

Izumi ruffled his hair and chuckled. “Listen, kid. Don’t think I’m ungrateful, I just know how to take care of myself. We have more important things to worry about right now.” 

“Like?” 

“Omi.” 

He groaned. “God, I keep forgetting about that. There’s so much going on. You got any ideas what we do with him?” 

Izumi cleared her throat. “He seems to have a, uh… less than glowing opinion of us?” 

“I’d think we were pretty terrible too if three minors beat the shit out of me and I woke up in someone's basement.” Tsuzuru made a strange neck-rolling motion like someone had blown into his face. “Wow, my Lord, it’s just now hitting me how much crap we’ve put Omi through in the past two hours. I _almost_ feel bad. He was just doing his job after all." 

“I say we hold him down here for two or three days, explain the whole situation, get him to see we’re not too bad.” Izumi glanced at her the other two staff members. “We’re… we’re not, right? I really don’t want this to be one of those situations where in the end, it’s revealed that we’re actually the ones in the wrong." 

“I think we’re fine.” 

“Dilf love!” 

Izumi choked. “CITRON?” 

He frowned thoughtfully. “Hm… Oh! I see where I went wrong. Self love!” 

“That swing and miss was almost impressive,” Tsuzuru said. He shook his head, trying to get back on topic. “And what if he still hates us at the end of his stay? What then?” 

She’d honestly have to think about that when it came to it. _Worst_ case scenario, she’d just have Tsuzuru erase his memories from tonight and on and return him back to the Council, praying for the best. Maybe help him research memory Runes to make sure it wouldn’t be broken too easily. But if there was one thing she had confidence in, it was her ability to be hospitable. 

“I’m going to get curry cooking!” she announced. 

Tsuzuru rolled his eyes and left her office swiftly like he refused to be there any longer. “You’re impossible." 

Izumi laughed. Citron got up as well, but rather than leaving, he closed the door so that it was just the two of them. Kept facing the door. Didn’t say a word. 

“Citron?” 

His shoulders sagged a little with a silent sigh. “Director, could you come here?” 

Citron turned around and he looked… somber? Thoughtful? It was hard to read his facial expressions sometimes when he wasn’t smiling wide. She got up as asked and approached him. 

“What’s up?” Izumi asked. 

He drew her closer and smiled sadly. “Thank you. For trusting me. It… It is nice. To be trusted.” 

“Well, yeah, we kind of fought an entire hoard of Banri’s zombies together and you had my back.” Izumi smiled weakly. “I think I’d be an asshole for not trusting you at this point.” 

She could never really tell what he was thinking. For all he liked to parade around like a goofball, it were the moments of contemplative silence like this that assured her he had a lot going on up there. Citron raised his hand to cradle the side of her face in his palm. 

“May I?” he asked quietly. 

Izumi raised an eyebrow. “Uh, is this a confession? I’m… flattered, really, but I’d say I'm, uh, married to my job right now, I hope you get it?” 

The Seer chuckled and shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that.” 

He leaned in and kissed her gently. Just like last time, her eyes began stinging like they’d gone suddenly dry. Izumi rubbed the light ache away and reopened them to see a soft green light shining around Citron’s form. Almost like what she thought an aurora would look like from the pictures she’d seen. A colored, dancing glint all along his outline. 

“Oh, wow,” Izumi said quietly. “Aura sight?” 

“Indeed.” Citron stepped away and spread his arms. “I am planning on betraying this Coven.” 

The light around him darkened, nearly disappearing, before it glowed once more. 

Izumi put her hands in her pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, barely holding back a giggle. “A lie, I’m guessing. Is this how you can tell if people are telling the truth?" 

“Yes. And I can also tell you this: I did not tell the Mayor our very secret plan.” 

Not even a flicker. Izumi let herself laugh finally and slapped his shoulder in a rough pat. 

“Don’t be a dumbass, Citron. I told you I trusted you, you didn’t have to do this,” she said. 

“I know.” The light around him began to ebb away as the temporary magic wore off. “But I wished to show you I trust you as well.” 

And the dying light did not change.

* * *

“Where is your teacher, Mister Sakuma?” 

Sakuya turned around to find Sakyo towering over him. 

He offered a smile that the Hunter did not return. “She left early! Had a bit of an emergency.” 

“And you did not go with her?” 

“We kind of wanted to stay until the end,” he said, pointing to Muku and Yuki who were at that moment trying to see how many things from the sweets table they could force into the chocolate fountain without creating a god forsaken monstrosity. “Director said I could take the train with them back to the Coven at midnight.” 

Sakyo pursed his lips disapprovingly. “That seems like a dangerous attempt for three children who are without an adult.” 

“Well, I—! Um.” He cleared his throat and forced the words out. “I’m technically an adult! I turned eighteen a couple of weeks ago.” 

“Oh. Belated birthday wishes, then.” 

“Thank you!” 

Silence settled over them like a blanket. Sakuya wondered why the man wasn’t leaving. 

“Would you like a ride back?” Sakyo said suddenly. “I do not feel comfortable abandoning you. The trains get dangerous this late.” 

Sakuya’s hands were _sweating_. He didn’t know how to explain it but Sakyo Furuichi was kind of just a scary-looking man. “I-I’ll go ask, uh, the guys.” 

Muku tugged Yuki’s arm. “Yuki, no! It’s too dangerous! It’ll fall apart!” 

“I’m going to do it anyways,” the brownie announced as he picked up the slice of cheesecake and brought it towards the cascading waterfall of chocolate. 

“Hey, Sakyo offered us a ride back to the dorms. Are you guys okay with that?” 

Yuki paused in the middle of his dessert experimentation. “That money grubbing Council dog did?” 

“I thought you said Sakyo was one of the good ones,” Muku whispered. 

“You do not understand how low that bar is.” Yuki shrugged. “Whatever, I guess. Director told me I could sleep over tonight, I’ll just text my parents to let them know.” 

“Okay!” He gave Sakyo a thumbs up from where he stood to signal it was fine. 

The lights of the cathedral dimmed once more. The chattering quickly died down as a spotlight turned on to focus on Mayor Reni. 

“I am sorry to say that our night together is drawing to a close,” Reni said, giving a small bow. “Thank you for joining us and I hope you all will come once more for the autumnal ball as well. But before we all leave, I would like to present a reward.” 

A boy scurried to Reni’s side. He had a shocking head of bright red hair and wore the white dress shirt, black bowtie combination that marked a waiter for the event. In his hands, he held a pretty little glass trophy. 

Reni smiled at the audience. “As you all know, our city has once again opened doors to a new Coven.” 

A pause for a smattering of light applause. 

“Although the permanence of the establishment is yet to be confirmed, we are always proud of the initiative it takes to open doors and teach the poor magicians who do not have the luxury of a Bloodline.” The people all around them chuckled but in a strange, snide way that sounded like they’d just heard a good inside joke. “Thus, I am honored to present the Citizen’s Extol to the newcomer with us tonight, Miss Izumi Tachibana who continues her father’s charity.” 

Sakuya heard Muku whisper, “Ohhhhhh no,” and felt like that was a very apt reaction. The silence that filled the entire ballroom was, to put it mildly, mortifying. Reni stood there in the spotlight for a second, another, a few more moments, and then repeated himself. 

“Miss Izumi Tachibana? If you’d please come up.” 

More silence. 

Sakyo was suddenly there, on Reni’s other side, leaning in to whisper in his ear. 

Reni blinked. 

“This is singlehandedly the best and worst incident I could have seen,” Yuki muttered gleefully as he, without shame, took out his cellphone and snapped a quick picture. “God, tonight just keeps getting better and better. How _humiliating_ this must be for the Mayor. My dad might just decide to pop open a nice bottle of wine to celebrate." 

Reni’s lips thinned. He leaned back into the microphone. “It seems that Miss Tachibana retired from our gathering tonight due to fatigue. Is there anybody else from the Mankai Coven still with us here to collect this award on her behalf?” 

The three boys all froze. 

“Sakuya, you were the first student, you should do it,” Muku said hurriedly under his breath. 

“I—but I don’t really do good in front of crowds,” Sakuya whispered back. “Muku, you’re the youngest student and, uh, something something about representing our generation? You do it!” 

“I _promise_ you, on my entire life, no matter how bad you are in crowds, I am much worse.” The Seer turned to Yuki. “Do you—?” 

Yuki snorted. “If I go up there, the Coven turns into the laughingstock of the entire city. Don’t even think about it.” 

Sakuya and Muku made eye contact again, exchanging a single thought. They both nodded in agreement. 

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” they both whispered. 

Sakuya held out scissors, Muku held out rock. 

Sakuya shot the Seer an accusing look. “Did you use your future sight?” 

Muku only smiled, an apologetic crease in his brow that confessed the truth, and gestured towards the stage. “The Mayor’s waiting, Sakuya.” 

“Gosh darn it.” He straightened his spine, took in a deep breath, and walked through the crowd. “Sorry. Excuse me, please. I’m so sorry. Excuse me." 

Reni smiled at him once he approached but was very obviously running out of patience. “Ah, wonderful. Mister Sakuma, would you care to introduce himself?” 

Frankly, no, Sakuya really did not care to. But he leaned into the mic and said, “Hello. I’m Sakuya Sakuma, a Firstborn Witch from Mankai Coven. It’s nice to meet you all.” 

Light applause. He was sweating _horribly_ under his collar. He accepted the small glass statue from the waiter. 

“Congrats,” the boy said quietly, shooting Sakuya a big grin. He stuck his hand out, which Sakuya shook politely. 

“Thanks,” Sakuya replied and scurried back to Muku and Yuki. “Jeez, I hope I didn’t make a fool out of myself.” 

“You did great, king,” Yuki said sarcastically. “Accepting an award in front of a crowd that’s probably already making plans to have you marry their daughters in a few years is just _so_ difficult.” 

Sakuya cringed. “What?” 

“Bloodlines will do anything to preserve the magical power in their next generations. You fit that criteria.” 

He shuddered. “I don’t really like that.” 

“Tough.” 

“I bid you all to have a wonderful night and a safe journey back home,” Reni said grandly and the lights turned back to normal. 

Muku and Sakuya let out identical sighs of relief. Yuki slipped his phone into his little purse and walked towards Sakyo. 

“Please tell me you did not bring that _disgusting_ minivan to this party,” he said sharply. 

Sakyo clicked his tongue. “Tailor. I’m surprised to see you here tonight." 

“Why? You don’t think mythics are good enough for soirées, you stingy, money-loving elder?" 

“…Walk home.” 

“ _In these heels?_ ” 

Sakuya slowly pushed himself between the bickering pair. “Thank you so much for offering, Mister Furuichi, we really appreciate it.” 

The Hunter just turned and began walking for the door. “Don’t dawdle. It’s late, your Director will worry.” 

“Ass,” Yuki muttered.

* * *

Izumi opened the door and that was when Sakuya knew something was wrong. Because she was laughing loudly, in that awkward way she did whenever she wanted to convince others that there was nothing wrong. 

“Thank you so much for dropping the kids off, Sakyo! I owe you again, looks like,” she rushed out. “It’s really late though, you should probably start heading home, huh? Come in quick, kids.” 

Director seized him by his shoulders and gently pulled him over the threshold. Sakuya squeaked at the force. 

Sakyo raised an eyebrow. “Is everything alright?” 

“Perfect! Everything’s perfect! Why do you ask? Pretty weird for you to be asking, haha!” 

“Slick,” Yuki said flatly as he walked past her and took his heels off. He snapped his fingers and shrank down to his normal size. “If Sumeragi’s in here, I’m going to hit him.” 

Izumi leaned down and tweaked one of his pointed ears. “No, you will not. Muku, take him to your room and lock the door.” 

“Okay!” 

“I am not a misbehaving cat!” Yuki protested, struggling to no avail as Muku gently picked his friend up and began carrying him inside. “Let me _walk_ at least! This is so demeaning!” 

“Let’s just do what the Director says for now, Yuki,” Muku whispered. 

“DON’T MAKE ME MAD AT YOU AGAIN!” 

Sakyo crossed his arms. “Mister Sakuma mentioned something about an emergency?” 

“EMERGENCY? Well, ha! Haha! That’s a bit of a, uhhhhhhhh, DRAMATIC word to be using!” Izumi blustered. “Golly gee, I wouldn’t call it an _emergency,_ you know? Just something to be taken care of back at the dorms. Sakuya turned eighteen so figured leaving him at the party would be a good way to test his responsibility. He passed the test! Yay! Only the quest now, right? Good!” 

Sakuya was getting embarrassed on her behalf. 

“Director, breathe,” he urged, tugging the back of her pajama top. 

Tsuzuru appeared in a flash and shouldered past the Director. “Sorry, Furuichi, she’s a little drunk. Everything’s fine, you can go along and keep licking Reni’s boots now.” 

Sakyo scowled darkly. “Do I need to go in there and do an impromptu investigation, Minagi? Do not test me, I have the authority. It’s still within the statutes of that first evaluation warrant.” 

“NO!” Izumi shrieked. “YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THAT, SAKYO, PLEASE GO HOME.” 

Silence. Tsuzuru slowly closed his eyes and although Sakuya wasn’t a Seer, he had the sense that Tsuzuru was thinking some not nice thoughts. 

Sakyo locked eyes with Izumi. “Director, I’m afraid your behavior is leaving me a tad concerned. May I please ask why you left the ball so early?” 

Half a heartbeat passed. 

“I had my period,” Izumi said suddenly. 

Tsuzuru let out the same noise that would come out of a stepped-on mouse. 

“Cramps hit me like a tornado. Really wanted to get back to the dorms as soon as possible. Citron helped me walk through the pain and I sent Tsuzuru out to get pads since we’re out,” she said, straight faced and with unquestionable candor. “I didn’t want to admit it like this but… if you insist.” 

Sakyo opened and closed his mouth several times like he didn’t know where to begin. He turned his attention back to Tsuzuru. “Is this true?” 

“Yep,” Tsuzuru choked out. 

“I’m sorry for intruding on your privacy then,” Sakyo said, face stony. He bowed his head. “Have a good night, Director. I wish the best of luck with…” He paused and fixed his glasses. Coughed into his fist. “Have a good night.” 

He turned and ran back to his silver minivan faster than, Sakuya couldn’t help but notice, he’d _ever_ seen the seasoned Hunter move before. Tsuzuru slowly shut the front door. 

The Director collapsed to the floor on her knees and moaned. “Oh my _god_ , I’m so glad that worked. The period excuse always works. Christ, I thought we were going to get arrested. Oh my GOD.” 

“Was it worth it,” Tsuzuru asked bitterly. “Was. It. Worth. It.” 

“Than getting arrested?! YES!” 

“Are you feeling alright, Director?” Sakuya asked, leaning down. “Would you like me to, um, get you a hot water bottle?” 

Izumi laughed and sounded nearing unstable. “No, Sakuya, it’s fine. This Coven makes me feel like I’m aging a decade every day. Go to the living room, Citron and I have to ask all you boys some questions.” 

“Okay.” 

He started walking to the living room. 

“OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” 

“I HATE YOU SO MUCH, DIRECTOR. I LOATHE YOU.” 

Tenma was snoring on the armchair. Banri was also asleep on the couch. Sakuya reached for the blanket and spread it over Banri’s form, then took off his jacket to put it over Tenma’s. He hoped they wouldn’t sleep there all night, it couldn’t have been very comfortable. 

“What now?” Yuki huffed as Citron gently corralled him and Muku towards the living room. “I’m stuffed and my feet hurt, I’d love to get some sleep soon.” 

“Soon, Yuki,” Citron promised. 

The Director came back rubbing her shoulder, followed by Tsuzuru who looked like he was two jibes away from committing a minor felony. What had happened since they’d left the ball? 

“Kids, I’m going to ask a question and I want you all to answer one by one,” Izumi said. “Did _any_ of you tell _anybody_ outside of the Coven about the plan to break into the Council building tonight? Yuki?” 

“No,” he said in monotone. “I love every inconvenience the government in this city goes through. I thrive off of it.” 

“…Good to know. Muku?” 

The young Seer shook his head. “N-No! I didn’t even tell my mom and dad! I mean, I talked to Yuki about it and I guess he’s not in the Coven, but he knew about it. That’s okay, right? Did I do something wrong? I did something wrong, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m just a shriveled bean at the bottom of a—“ 

Izumi held up her hand to stop him. “No is all I needed. Sakuya?” 

He frowned. “No, not anybody. I didn’t even talk about it outside of this building except to Tenma when we walked back from school. I couldn’t even really mention it to Banri since he doesn’t show up to school that much." 

Yuki scowled at the Sumeragi Heir’s name but thankfully didn’t say anything. Although he did shoot a glare to the sleeping boy. 

Citron gave her a small nod. “All of them are telling the truth.” 

Izumi licked her lips pensively. “Thought so. But how…?” 

“What happened, Director? Why were you so nervous in front of Sakyo?” Sakuya asked. 

She stiffened. “I… well… it’s a long story, kiddo.” She and Tsuzuru exchanged expressions. Several expressions, in fact. Doing that odd thing they did sometimes where they had a conversation without words. 

“How do they do that?” Yuki asked. 

Muku shrugged. “Nobody knows.” 

“Hm. Probably because they’re cut from the same cloth.” 

“It’s really late,” Izumi said finally. “Tomorrow’s Sunday but it’s back to school for you lot afterwards. Why don’t you all head to bed? Yuki, would you like me to wake you up in the morning so you can head back home?” 

He groaned. “I’d rather sleep in, if you don’t mind.” 

“I suppose you deserve it.” She gave all three of them a pat on the head, minding Yuki’s size and using only one finger for him. “I’ve got some wrapping up to do here. Dorms and lights out, got it?” 

“Got it,” all three of them said in unison. 

And that was that.

* * *

Sakuya woke up when he heard noises from the hallway. He rolled out of bed and cracked the door open. 

“You’ll be back in the afternoon then?” Izumi asked as she handed Tsuzuru a cup of coffee. 

The Caster was dressed in khakis and a nice sweater. Not as fancy as the tuxedo from last night but still fairly better than the jeans and baggy tees he usually stuck to. 

“Mom wants me to go to church service _and_ have brunch with them,” he said with a sigh. “She’s right when she says I haven’t visited them in a while, but yeah. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” 

“I really need you to if we’re going to relocate Fushimi to one of the empty rooms. We can’t keep him down there forever.” 

“I know, I know. This afternoon, I promise.” 

Sakuya frowned. Fushimi? Down where? The basement? Or… or was that a codename for another mythic that rested in underground dens? He almost opened the door wider to ask but stopped. He’d listen a little longer. 

“I suppose the Coven _has_ been pretty busy,” Izumi remarked as she drank from her own cup. “Man, it’s been months since I’ve seen my mom last. I should pop a visit in some time during the summer.” 

“What’s your mom like?” 

“She’s, uh, a force of nature. Love her to pieces, but…” 

Tsuzuru snorted. “Sounds like someone else I know.” 

“Hey!” 

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” 

Izumi smacked him on the back of his head. “Get going already, then. Give the Big G a hi from me.” 

“That’s… not in the least bit a catholic statement.” 

“Whoops!” 

The pair disappeared around the corner towards the entryway, the Director sending Tsuzuru off. Sakuya finally left his dorm and stood in the kitchen. 

“Oh! Morning, kiddo. You’re up earlier than I’d thought you’d be,” Izumi said with surprise when she returned. 

He nodded. “I slept well, though. How about you, Director?” 

“Like a baby. Feeling a bit hungover though. You okay with cereal for breakfast? Take a seat, I’ll pour you a bowl.” 

“Thank you!” 

She reached for the Cheerios box. “Tsuzuru just left for church service with his family. Said his mother’s been bugging him to go with them for weeks now and finally refused to take no for an answer. I don’t know about you, but Mrs. Minagi sounds a little scary.” 

Sakuya laughed at that. “A lot of religious moms can be, I guess.” 

“Mm. How about your parents? You haven’t seen them in a while, I bet. How are they?” 

Sakuya froze. His fingers twitched on the table’s surface. 

Izumi turned to face him. “Sakuya?” 

“My, um. My parents, uh…” _Just say it. Don’t make it weird_. He forced a smile. “They passed away a long time ago. I lived with my relatives until I came here!” 

The Director’s face softened. “Ah… I thought Matsukawa mentioned something about your parents not being magicians…?” 

“Yeah. He asked my aunt to confirm.” Sakuya laughed with a humor he didn’t feel. “She knew more about it than I could, after all! I was really young. Car… crash.” 

She placed the bowl of cereal and milk in front of him but suddenly he didn’t feel hungry. “I’m sorry for bringing it up, Sakuya.” 

“It’s okay.” The Director hadn’t meant to, after all, he told himself. 

“You said your relatives cut you off?” 

A part of him wished he’d lied. Told her his parents had just gone over seas, like Tenma’s had. But he couldn’t lie to her. 

Sakuya forced a spoonful into his mouth. Maybe if he started eating, the questions would stop. “I don’t have a really good relationship with them. Not too bad, though, I don’t want to worry you. I think we all wanted me to find my own place in the world!” 

He beamed at the milk in his bowl. And he had. He was proud to say it, Sakuya had found his place, after all those years of worrying that he wouldn’t. 

“I left so quickly, I left a lot of things behind,” he added with humor. “It’s why I had to wear the same outfit for a few days until Matsukawa scrounged up enough to bring me to a thrift shop.” 

“You left things behind?” Izumi asked. 

“A few things. Nothing I miss _too_ much.” Sakuya paused. “Ah, except this one thing. I had a picture frame of my parents at their wedding. I wonder if Auntie still has it.” 

Izumi sipped her coffee again. “My afternoon’s free. Why don’t we go check?” 

His spoon clacked against the side of his bowl. “I—no, no, that’s not necessary, really! I mean, it’s just a picture! I don’t want to ruin your Sunday, you said you were hungover and everything.” 

“Sakuya,” she said. 

The Witch cautioned a glance at his teacher. She had a gentle but firm air around her. “We don’t leave important things behind. This applies to a lot of things, but especially to objects that are important to us. Although, it is your choice. Do you want that picture back?” 

Sakuya hesitated. He nibbled on his upper lip but the answer was clear. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “I really do.” 

The Director knocked her knuckles on the table the way a judge clapped a gavel. “That seals it! Get dressed after you eat and we’ll head out. You remember the address, I hope?” 

Sakuya kind of wished he didn’t. “I do.”

* * *

Izumi should have expected it once they turned the corner to the neighborhood. 

Large houses with picket fences and wide gardens. Some with stone walls rather than fences, even. She shuddered a little. _Suburbia._ She’d personally grown up in a tiny little cottage meant for only two people in the countryside. This? This was the kind of thing you’d find on the cover of a real estate magazine. Sakuya had mentioned his relatives were well off, though, so it was completely on her for being surprised. 

“That one,” Sakuya murmured as he pointed to a tall, redbrick edifice. “I… Director, my aunt can be, how do I say this…” 

“Don’t worry, kiddo, I know all about dealing with annoying old people,” she reassured him as they neared the front door. There was a metal lion on it with a knocker ring held in its mouth. 

_What, too good for a doorbell?_ she thought sourly. 

Izumi banged the knocker a few times and waited. 

A woman in her mid-forties opened the door, mousy hair pulled back tight into a bun on the back of her head. 

“Yes?” she asked. 

Sakuya peeked out from behind Izumi. “Hi, Auntie.” 

The woman’s face fell. She slammed the door shut swiftly. 

Almost. 

Izumi tried not to tear up from the pain of sticking her foot in there. Thank god she’d worn her Tims, because she might have fractured her foot in any other shoe. Yuki could shove it, her Tims were her most loyal companions. 

“Hi, are you Sakuya’s aunt?” she asked. “I’m his teacher back at Mankai Coven, I’m sure Matsukawa told—“ 

“He was never supposed to come back,” Sara Kojima hissed. “That man from your, your _cult_ and I agreed. He would never come back!” 

Sakuya shrank back behind her. 

Izumi blinked a few times and gestured to her foot. “Can you open the door please? I think my blood circulation is cutting off.” 

Sara opened the door with a frankly _uncivilized_ growl. “I thought I made it clear. When you took him away, I wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Do none of you wretched heathens respect promises?” 

“Wow!” Izumi said with a clap. “Wretched heathen. Haven’t heard that one in a long time.” 

“GET OFF OF MY PROPERTY!” Sara shrieked. “I’ll call the police if you don’t, I promise you. And I actually _adhere_ to my words.” 

Sakuya gripped the back of Izumi’s shirt. “S-She does, Director. It’s fine. It was stupid. We can go.” 

“Hold your horses, Sakuya. Mrs. Kojima, I really, really, really would appreciate it if my student could retrieve some of his things he said he left behind. You understand, don’t you?” she asked glibly. “We’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” 

A vein stuck out in Sara’s neck as she raised her head. She turned on her heel and stormed back into her large house, returning swiftly with a cardboard box sealed shut with duct tape. She thrust it into Izumi’s arms. 

“Goodbye,” she spat and tried to shut the door again. 

Izumi shoved her shoulder against it and forced it open further. “I really wish you’d not do that. Sakuya, open the box. Check if it’s in there.” 

“If what’s in there?!” 

Sakuya’s hands were shaking a little bit as he accepted the box from her. Izumi noticed it. Something icy was dragging its hand over her spine. She could hear Sara Kojima seething as the Firstborn kneeled on the ground and tore off a strip of duct tape. He struggled a bit, lacking fine motor skills usually but even moreso now. The box was eventually open. Sakuya dug through the folded shirts, the underwear, the little knick knacks he’d collected through the years to call his own. 

He sagged in disappointment. “…It’s not.” 

“What do you want?!” Sara exploded. “Leave! Leave! I don’t want you anywhere near me, not now, not for the rest of your miserable life!” 

Izumi flicked her finger. Sakuya’s aunt let out a shriek as her hair tie was pulled, yanking her hair along with it. 

“Don’t do that to anyone,” she told Sakuya, unashamed in her hypocrisy. She rubbed her forehead. “Mrs. Kojima, Sakuya told me he wanted a picture frame of his parents. Would you know where that is?” 

Sara was suddenly dangerously close. Nearly nose to nose. She had a few inches on Izumi so it was a little alarming to have her shoved so close. 

“ _He doesn’t deserve it_ ,” Sara spat. 

Literally spat. As in, she finished talking, and then hacked onto Izumi’s face. 

She slowly wiped off the spit from under her eye. The icy hand grabbed her spine tight and shook it back and forth, rattling her entire body. 

Izumi held out her hand. “I would like it if you’d hand it over, please.” 

“HE KILLED THEM!” she bellowed so loudly, Izumi’s ears rang. “HE KILLED MY SISTER AND HER HUSBAND. HE IS DEMON SPAWN. YOU THINK I WILL HAND OVER THEIR MEMENTO THAT EASILY?” 

“I _think_ you should stop speaking down to me like I’m some child,” Izumi corrected very slowly. “And, you know, maybe you'll surprise me but I really don't think Sakuya stabbed his parents in their sleep."

_"He is unnatural._ The lot of you are all, all UNNATURAL. The things you all do, it's demented and evil. He was responsible for it, I know he is and SO DOES HE!" She jabbed a finger over Izumi's shoulder.

Izumi held out an arm to block Sara's path. "Don't. Do not speak or look at him. I'm going to warn you just this once." With the other arm, she held out her hand again. "He told me it’s something important of his and I would like it back. I'm not really in the mood to leave otherwise. I recommend you either humor me or be willing to wait a long time."

Sara was gone again. Back too soon. She smashed the photo frame on the stepping stones outside of her house, shattering the glass and the porcelain stand. 

“ _YOU WILL ALL BURN IN HELL!_ ” Sara Kojima screamed before shoving the heel of her hand into Izumi’s chest, forcing her to stumble back a few steps. She slammed the door shut so hard, the lion knocker rattled. 

Izumi stared at the door. 

She kneeled down and fished the photo from the shards of glass, taking care as to not cut herself. 

She turned and handed it to Sakuya. “Is this it?” 

Sakuya took the photo. Trembling. His face twitched. “Yes.” 

“That’s good.” She picked up the rummaged-through box and began walking off of the property.

* * *

She wasn’t talking. 

Sakuya’s stomach twisted. Was it his fault? Was she worried? He didn’t want the Director to feel bad because of him. 

“It’s okay, Director,” he said to her back as they kept walking on. “I don’t—believe my aunt, or anything like that, I promise. She says the ‘you’ll go to hell’ thing a lot and it loses its impact after awhile. I-If anything, she helped me realize that, um, I shouldn’t be mean like her. So it was… I mean, it wasn’t _great_ , but a good thing came out of it. Living there.” 

Izumi stopped walking. Sakuya slammed the brakes so he didn’t crash into her back. 

She turned around and Sakuya could not recall having ever seen that kind of expression before. Not on her face, not ever in his life. Nothing. Not even Auntie could have in a million years replicated such a look of undiluted rage. 

“Sakuya,” Director began lowly. She took in a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and snapped her head towards the park. “Let’s take a seat at that bench. I think we need to have a small chat.” 

That didn’t sound good. Dread filled him but he did as he was told. The cereal he’d had that morning was like a stone in his gut. 

The Director placed the cardboard box beside him, and rather than taking a seat as well, she kneeled down in front of feet and took his hands in hers. 

“Director, I’m okay,” he began but she cut him off swiftly. 

“Sakuya Sakuma, I want you to listen to me very carefully. As someone older than you. Got it?” Izumi said. 

He clamped his lips shut and nodded. 

“There is no good lesson in this world that you could have learned from getting hurt that you couldn’t have learned from someone being kind to you. Not a _single_ one.” 

Each and every one of Izumi’s words were hot and harsh and painful, like she was branding them onto his skin rather than saying them out loud. His chest was starting to hurt again. “Director—“ 

“ _Listen to me._ Good people are not made from hurting,” she continued. “People are hurt for _no_ good reason. They choose to be good but they are not made good by bad things happening to them." 

The Director wasn’t yelling but he wished she was. Anything besides the low, quivering, agonizing tilt her voice had taken. 

Sakuya opened his mouth and closed it again. He lowered his head as he felt something like a fever stir in his face. 

Izumi let out a tired sounding sigh and ran her thumbs across his knuckles. Her voice went softer, much, much softer. “Kiddo. When you’re stuck in a bad place… You tell yourself anything you can to make it through it. You tell yourself that there are good things that happened because of it, or that you deserve it, or that it’s fine and not that big of a deal. But you’re not in that place anymore and you won’t ever have to be again. So you can stop telling yourself things that aren’t true. Do you understand?” 

“But…” 

“ _No buts_ ,” she commanded. “Absolutely none.” 

He couldn’t breathe right. 

“But then what was it all for?” Sakuya asked, voice cracking. He gasped for air as tears welled in his eyes. “Why did… I have to live with them? If I didn’t learn how to be good, what was it all FOR?” 

Izumi didn’t say anything. 

“Why? Why did they hate me? They didn’t tell me what I was doing wrong, I _was_ wrong, and I didn’t know how to f-f-fix it.” He was crying now. Hot and stuffy as his nose clogged. He let the tears drip onto his jeans as he kept staring at his lap, refusing to look the Director in her eyes. “At least I learned how to be _nice_ , at least I knew how bad it feels to be treated like that. At least I _made good_ from being…” 

Izumi shushed him with small, comforting clicks of her tongue. Like he was a fussy kitten. She reached up and wiped his cheeks. 

“Bad things don’t happen to good people, Sakuya,” she told him sadly. “Bad things happen. There’s no rhyme or reason to them happening, even if we wished there was or think there are. Any way your relatives hurt you, they hurt you because just because. I know how comforting it can be to think otherwise, but it’s not true. And it’s hard to feel better, really better, when you lie to yourself.” 

“I didn’t want to be a bad kid,” he wept, words slurred through the unstopping tears. “I swear, I n-never wanted to.” 

“I know, sweetheart. You’re not a bad kid, Sakuya. You came out of a terrible place still wanting to be loved and that means you’re a strong one.” She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, slowly shifting to his side and resting her chin on the top of his head. Izumi carded her fingers through his hair as he cried harder onto her chest. 

“It’s hard to get angry because it can feel like you’re admitting to something you wish wasn’t true,” she said softly. “But you’re allowed to, you know. You’re allowed to feel sad. Promise me you won’t ever let anybody hurt you again the way they did.” 

And Sakuya… 

Sakuya bawled harder.

* * *

“Hey, welcome b—oh my _god_ , did you walk into a beehive?” Tsuzuru asked. 

Sakuya would have laughed if he hadn’t been so tired. It was like his feet were bricks and he was already half-asleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like that. He hadn’t cried that hard even on his birthday. It’d taken its toll. 

And his eyes were red and swollen to the point where he couldn’t see out of them properly anymore. 

“Go to bed, kiddo,” Director said, ruffling his hair the way she always did. “I’ll wake you up when it’s dinner time.” 

“‘Kay,” he murmured and made his exit. 

Tsuzuru waited until the Witchling was out of sight to toss a questioning look in Izumi’s way. 

She just shook her head. “He’ll be fine, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“No details?” 

“Not mine to give, I’m afraid. Where’s goat boy?” 

“Where do you think?” 

She went to Itaru’s room, knocking twice before opening the door. The demon just held up a hand, message clear. _Almost done with this, just give me a few more minutes_. So Izumi sat on his hardly-touched, dusty bed. Still made, which convinced her Itaru had _never_ slept on the bed before, probably spending every hour glued to the computer. 

All of a sudden, he leapt from his chair. 

“EAT MY FUCKING DICK, NOOB, THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT,” Itaru bellowed. “WOO! LEADERBOARD, WHAT’S GOOD!” 

Izumi cleared her throat. 

Itaru glanced at her and sat back down. “Oh. You. What do you want.” 

“I’m… what are you doing?” 

“Teabagging this dumb scrub’s ava,” Itaru said as he repeatedly tapped the crouch command. 

“Wow.” Izumi pursed her lips. “Just… wow. This is a lot to take in.” 

He shot her a dirty look. “Do you need something? I’m kind of busy. Unless you brought me snacks, but I’m not seeing any on you, so.” 

Izumi had no idea what kind of critique could be gleaned from this. A critique on video games for being so enthralling and addictive that even an immortal from hell was trapped in their clutches? A critique on demons for being weak-willed and easily giving into vices? Or maybe it instead said something about _her_ for shoving Itaru into the gaming world to save her neck. 

Whatever. 

“I need you to promise me something,” she said. 

Itaru stilled. He turned around slowly in his swivel chair, pink eyes burning. 

“Halfblood, need I remind you how dangerous it is to strike a deal with a devil?” he asked softly. 

Izumi shivered. She forgot how menacing Itaru could be when he put in that extra bit of effort. Then again, she’d also seen him get visibly upset because they didn’t have dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets in the freezer, so… 

“It’s not… not a contract. I’m asking you as a…” Oh, this was most definitely not the correct term to be using, but she’d have to go for it. “As a friend.” 

Itaru stared at her, a small flame bursting from his left shoulder. Then he threw his head back and began howling. 

“That is RICH,” he crowed. “Friend? HA!” 

“You know, I will admit, that actually hurts my feelings a little but I’ll ignore it for now.” She took a deep breath. “I want you to promise me that you’ll look after Sakuya.” 

He stopped laughing very suddenly, instead narrowing his eyes. “What. Are you dying?” 

“No.” 

“Good, you are currently my only form of income.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Itaru, please. I want you to promise me that you’ll protect Sakuya if there’s even a moment I can’t.” 

The demon didn’t react to her words. Just reached up to unclip the little barrette holding his bangs back, run his fingers through his hair, and then put it back in. Izumi curled her fingers into a fist. 

“If there is ever a _chance_ that he might be in trouble, or he needs help, and I can’t be there… I want you to make sure he’s okay. Under any means necessary.” 

“What’s in it for me?” Itaru asked. 

Izumi chuckled. “Honestly, not much. But if we’re being honest here, you’re still the strongest person under this roof. I’d do anything I could but. Well.” 

She snapped her fingers and a crumpled, discarded energy drink can on the floor rose into the air. She twirled her finger and watched solemnly as it flew around before clattering back down. 

“There’s only so much I can do.” Izumi lowered her head. “Please. Just let me know that you’ll keep an eye out for the kid.” 

Itaru clicked his tongue and turned back to his computer. “Leave.” 

“Itaru.” 

He was oddly silent. The fire travelled to his hair, licking at the strands. Izumi felt like it was a sign she was treading on dangerous ground. 

“Demons collect sin. We thrive on what you humans consider morally evil, yet continue to commit. It is through that dissonance we feed,” Itaru said. He unzipped his jersey’s neck and stretched. “However, we loathe waste more than anything else. The Witchling’s death, where he is now, would be a massive waste.” 

Izumi squinted. “Is that your really cryptic, demon-y answer for yes?” 

“Out. Now.” 

“Right, right.” She slipped out of his room, closing the door behind her. When she was sure he wouldn’t be able to hear her, she smiled a bit and muttered, “what an asshole.” 

“For sure,” Tsuzuru said as he passed by. “He gets away with it because he’s hot and that’s literally it.” 

Izumi laughed. “Still jealous?” 

“It’s not _fair_. Good looking people get to be mean, and what are we forced to do? Have personalities to compensate.” 

“…We?” 

“Director, I say this with as much respect as possible… you are a six at best.”

* * *

Citron sipped his tea. What a peaceful afternoon. It was moments like these he enjoyed just relaxing amongst the flowers in the courtyard. 

Someone slammed the sliding glass door open. Tsuzuru sprinted past him. 

“IT WAS A JOKE, IT WAS A _JOKE_ , STOP CHASING ME!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. 

“I AM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU,” Izumi shrieked in return, hot on his heels. 

Tsuzuru tried to hop the courtyard wall but failed as the Director seized him by a pant leg and dragged him down to the dirt. The Caster let out a scream as Izumi began pulling his hair by the fistfuls. 

Citron sipped his tea again. This was, he supposed, why it was important to savor the peace when it was possible. It never lasted long here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If i can stand by one statement, it would be: never excuse what abusers have done
> 
> Thank you for reading


	18. An Opinion That Grows Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omi is a temporary member of the Coven, kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS A THING GOING ON CALLED A3 RAREPAIR WEEK... I was hesitant to post this chapter because I didn't want to clog the updates page, but ahhh, wanted to get this out. PLEASE GO CHECK OUT SOME OF THE WORKS PEOPLE HAVE POSTED AND GIVE THEM LOTS OF LOVE!!! So many incredible writers on such a small archive, I'm so beside myself.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Izumi checked around the dorms to make sure everybody was busy and wouldn’t pop up randomly to cause problems. 

Muku was spending the day with his parents and wouldn’t be back until dinner. Yuki had gone home that morning. Masumi and Tenma were going through a lesson in the training room, Misumi said something about going "triangle hunting," and Sakuya was still fast asleep in his dorm. The poor kid had really tuckered himself after having a good, well-deserved cry, it seemed. 

But as it were, everybody who needed to be kept busy was busy. It was now or never. 

“Finished,” Tsuzuru said as he undid the Rune on the bathroom’s trapdoor. 

“Keep an eye out, Citron,” Izumi asked as she began descending the stone stairwell. “Tsuzuru, you come down when I call for you.” 

Tsuzuru nodded in the affirmative while Citron gave a little salute. 

Izumi sucked in a deep breath to try and calm herself down. There was nothing she had to feel defensive about, right? They weren’t _monsters,_ after all _._ Kidnappers, maybe, but not… monsters! 

Yeah, no. There wasn’t really a great way to spin this. 

Omi looked up from the book of crossword puzzles Tsuzuru had provided last night. He looked like he had accepted his status as… prisoner(?) for now and rightfully was still wary. The lantern on the table lit every crease in his face. 

Izumi just stood there awkwardly, trying to think of what to say. 

“I hope you liked the curry last night!” Izumi said. 

Omi didn’t smile. 

Right. 

“I’m sorry about all of this,” she said finally and _cringed_ at how nonsensical that sounded. “I’m going to be as frank as possible. This… wasn’t supposed to happen. Really. I just wanted a file on Hakkaku Watanabe and—it was _supposed_ to be covert. A few of the kids, in and out, no one hurt and definitely no one brought back against their will. I guess when Banri heard that you and the mayor knew about the plan, he panicked.” 

Omi closed his booklet and placed it on the table. “So his name is Banri then?” 

“The one you…” Izumi pantomimed punching in the face. 

Omi stiffened. “I did _not_ punch that boy.” 

“Huh?” 

“He was a little disoriented from a tackle earlier. It was a precautionary, immobilizing measure but he insisted on trying to run anyways and hit a wall face-first.” 

Izumi covered her mouth with her hand. That was… No, no. Don’t laugh. Be professional. But man, next time Banri decided to break into her things, this was going to become very public knowledge. 

“He’s a good kid, I think. Deep down inside. Somewhere. Maybe.” Izumi shook her head. “Or at least I sure am hoping for it.” 

Omi frowned deeper. “He’s seventeen. He’s too young to be anything but good. Children aren’t evil, Miss Tachibana, at worst they’re misled and lost.” 

“Call me Director.” 

The guard looked around the basement-makeshift-cell. “I’d rather not.” 

“Fair,” she said with a shrug. “Izumi, then.” 

“If you’re putting together a band of strong, young, impressionable, magicians to carry out your every whim under the guise of being an educator, I believe Mankai Coven deserves to be shut down,” Omi said. “It’s evil. I’d rather entrust their schooling to be overseen by the council.” 

“I—“ Izumi froze and tried to understand what he’d just said. “What?” 

Silence. 

“No, no, I’m serious, what did you just say?” 

Omi squared his shoulders. “If you’re putting together some kind of army—“ 

“ _What?!_ ” 

They stared at each other in the dim, flicking light. 

Izumi pressed a hand to her forehead. Army? A band of strong magicians? WHAT strong magicians? Yeah, they had Sakuya, a Firstborn Witch, but—oh, and also Muku, a Firstborn Seer, but— 

And Citron, a Seer from another country who seemed ridiculously capable… and also Itaru, an actual demon, although no one knew about him. And, and Misumi, a Witch well-versed in black magic. Banri, a blessed delinquent with minimal respect for authority of any kind; Juza, perhaps the only “docile” wraith (an honest oxymoron) in the world. Tenma, the polished heir to the entire Sumeragi line. 

Izumi could practically feel the blood draining from her face as the realization hit her full force. 

In a very unfortunate and unwilling manner, she kind of… totally understood where Omi was coming from. It was hard to remember that she was under the roof with quite a few “heavy hitters” when she spent half her time laughing at their silly antics. 

“We’re not— _I’m_ not trying to do anything like that. I’m a teacher, Omi, not a revolutionary,” Izumi swore. “It’s not like I’m going out of my way to _collect_ powerful magicians.” 

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “What, they just all happened to stumble under this roof through sheer coincidence?" 

“…YES!” she cried. “That is literally what happened for some of them! Half of the boys up there we met through sheer chance, I really think the only person I went out of my way to hire was Tsuzuru and Tenma!” 

The guard’s face didn’t change. “Listen, I’m really not in a mood to talk if you’re not going to be honest.” 

“B-But…” She wanted to scream into her hands but told herself to _get a grip_. “Okay. Okay, I got it. I’m going to tell you what I’ve got planned for you.” Izumi took in a deep breath. “We’re going to keep you here for two or three days. And in that time, I’m going to let you know what kind of operation we run here. If you want to go and tell Reni the truth and have us shut down, I’ll let you. Just give us the _chance_ to convince you we’re not…” 

What was the word? 

“Evil?” Omi prompted. 

Izumi winced. “Yeah. Evil.” 

“No.” 

She almost stomped her foot on the ground out of frustration. “Why not?” 

“I’m not going to compromise with the likes of you. I’m not going to betray the Council just because you weave a web of lies for three days.” Apparently his jawline wasn’t the only impressive thing about him, he was as stubborn as Tsuzuru, Izumi thought bitterly. 

“Omi,” she began very slowly. “I want you to tell me the truth. Do you want to shut us down because you think the Coven is manipulating its students? Or because you’re loyal to the Council.” 

He didn’t hesitate. “Both.” 

“But if you _had to choose._ Which is more important to you? The wellbeing of the boys upstairs or doing what Reni tells you to do.” 

Omi went silent. She waited for his answer and _prayed_ this guy was independent enough to make ethical choices on his own. Otherwise, she’d have to help Tsuzuru come up with that new memory Rune faster than intended. 

“I’d suppose the wellbeing of the magicians under your care,” Omi admitted finally. 

Oh, thank Christ. 

“Let’s get you out of this basement,” Izumi said cheerfully. “Sorry you had to spend the night here.” 

“No, it’s fine. A firm surface is good for the spine.” He got up and Izumi had to spend a minute just realizing how _massive_ this guy was. Maybe not on par with Muku’s father but still something to keep on edge about. 

Izumi craned her neck back and called, “Tsuzuru! We’re gonna need you now.” 

The Caster dipped in and bowed. “Sorry about this.” 

“It’s what I expected,” Omi muttered as he held out his arms. 

Tsuzuru cast a quick Bind Rune on his wrists to keep them bound, and it was like that the three of them walked up out of the basement into the pre-prepared dorm that Omi would spend the next few days of imprisonment within. 

“I’m going to want to interview each and every person you have staying with you under this roof,” Omi told her as Tsuzuru released the bindings. “At least I need to confirm that you’re providing for them properly." 

Izumi and Tsuzuru locked eyes immediately. 

_I TOLD you we should have told Sakuya about him from the beginning! But nooooo, you were all ’the less they know the better,’_ she said through a very angry purse of her lips that turned them into one thin white line. 

He shrugged. _I refuse to take blame for that. If I’d known that you were planning on trying to butter Fushimi up and beat Reni on his hierarchy of loyalty, then sure I would have told you to tell them!_

_What do we do?!_

Tsuzuru made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and waved a hand flippantly. _I suppose we HAVE to tell them now, don’t we?_

_God damn you_. 

“What are you two doing?” Omi asked blankly. 

They snapped themselves out of it. 

“Of course,” Izumi said. “Um, maybe starting from… From tomorrow? Please?” 

“Can I ask why?” 

She ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. “Well. Um. I really don’t know how to say this…” 

“Some of them don’t know you’re here,” Tsuzuru said bluntly. 

Omi looked at a loss for words. “They… don’t?” 

“I _told_ you that Banri knocking you out and bringing you back was never part of the plan,” Izumi said as she wrung her hands nervously. “Just give us today to tell them all that you’re here and why you’re here.” 

Omi crossed his arms. “And I’ll know you’re not telling them to lie how?” 

“Oh my god, Omi, I can’t tend to each and every one of your suspicions!” she snapped. “Can you _please_ just go easy on the paranoia for a second?!” 

Silence. Tsuzuru sighed and put his hand on her shoulder. 

“Director…” 

Izumi shrugged him off bitterly. “Yeah, yeah, I know. We kidnapped him. Testing whether or not we’re evil. _God_. Join us for dinner, why don’t you.” 

“Okay,” Omi said. 

“I—Come again?” 

“I’ll join you for dinner. Seems like a good way to get to know everybody. Introduce myself properly.” 

Izumi shot a look towards Tsuzuru who could only shrug again. 

“There’s really no reason to say no, is there?” he said.

* * *

“Director, will there be a day you don’t bring home a strange man?” Matsukawa said with a sigh as he took a seat at the dinner table. 

She choked a little and smacked him on the back of his head. “Did you have to phrase it like that?!” 

“Who is he, Director?” Muku asked curiously, blinking owlishly up at Omi. 

“We’ll wait until we’re all seated for introductions." Izumi handed the ladle to Tsuzuru. “Start handing out servings. I’m going to grab Sakuya from his room, I think he’s still sleeping." 

She disappeared down the hall. 

They sat in awkward silence. Tenma reached for a glass of water and sipped. He placed it back down. 

“Just say it, Tenma,” Citron urged him. 

“Stop reading my mind!” Tenma snapped in return. 

“I cannot help it! You are practically doing the scream in your brain.” 

Tenma slumped over on the table and moped a little. He let out a quiet sigh. Muku rubbed his back a little. 

“You can do it, Tenma,” he urged. “I mean, I’m not sure what’s going on, but… you have a lot of guilt inside.” 

“I’m not guilty of anything!” the Hunter yelled, standing up from the table. “Screw this, I’m not hungry.” 

His stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. Tsuzuru sighed as he handed him the first plate of rice and curry. 

“You don’t have to always put up such a front, you know,” he remarked. “If the Seers tell you to just come out and say whatever you’ve got in there, I’d recommend you just do what they say.” 

Tenma looked a little conflicted as he slowly lowered himself back into the seat. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered finally, slumping like he was mortified by his own words. “For, um… fighting you, I guess. It’s a little awkward eating dinner in front of you after that.” 

Omi smiled and accepted the apology. “Thank you for saying so. I don’t hold it against you, you know. You just did what you were told to do, weren’t you? Where’s the other young man… Banri, I think his name was?” 

“Banri doesn’t stay with us,” Tsuzuru said, handing Muku and Masumi their own dinners. “He still lives with his parents." 

“He’s not registered either,” Omi noted sharply. “Why is that?” 

“Because the kid isn’t a magician. He’s a blessed.” Tsuzuru hesitated. “And… I mean—don’t tell the Director I told you this because she’ll have my head, but I think maybe just getting this piece of truth out there is the better thing to do. I’m sure Furuichi told you what he needed to about the, uh… little undead incident a few weeks ago?” 

The guard raised an eyebrow. “The necromancer was never caught. But Sakyo said he had reasonable suspicion to believe that there was a Witch who used black magic loose in the city.” 

Tsuzuru pursed his lips, waiting for the dots to connect. It took a little longer than expected, but soon enough, Omi’s eyes were as wide as saucers. 

“You’re _kidding_ ,” he whispered. “That KID rose the dead? Were you people teaching him how to do that?!” 

“No, no, Director was telling the truth when she swore on the Maid of Orléans, Banri really was just like that when we found him. It’s how we found him, actually.” 

“…So _that’s_ why he’s not registered.” 

“Ding ding ding.” 

Izumi returned to the kitchen with Sakuya waddling after her like a sleepy duckling. His eyes were still a little puffy and pink, but much better than before. “Spilling all of our secrets, Minagi? Thought you’d need at least a thousand bucks, not just a cute face.” 

The Caster rolled his eyes and fanned himself dramatically. “Oh, you know me, Director. Can hardly _resist_ a man working for the underground police. Would sell out myself for a library, would sell out you to get in the good graces of a six-foot meat titan. We both know what kind of person I am by now." 

“Meat titan?” Omi repeated, incredulous. 

Izumi snorted in response. As Sakuya settled into the last chair, she took in a deep breath and gestured to their guest. 

“This is Omi Fushimi,” she said with a vigor she did not genuinely feel. “Think of this as, um, something like Sakyo’s inspection, I guess? He’ll be staying with us for a couple of days. Interviewing you all, sitting in on a few lessons, poking around. You know how it is.” 

Omi took a quick count of the people around the kitchen. The Director, Matsukawa and himself included, there were ten people. “Is this everybody who lives with the Coven?” 

“We’re missing Itaru,” Sakuya mumbled, still out of it. 

Omi didn’t miss the way Izumi and Tsuzuru both shut their eyes and grimaced. 

“Who is Itaru?” Omi asked. “That’s _another_ name I don’t recognize.” 

“Itaru is… I mean…” Izumi wrung her hands. “He’s, um.” 

“Okay, before you get mad at us and start slinging around accusations, I find it important to make it clear that Sakyo Furuichi _knows_ he’s staying with us, he just agreed to keep it quiet for now,” Tsuzuru said. 

“Don’t throw Sakyo under the bus!” 

“I'd throw him under the bus every Monday! Nobody likes that guy.” 

Omi leveled a warning look in Tsuzuru’s direction. “Sakyo Furuichi has gone out of his way to save the lives of several magicians in need of help in this city. You’d do well to be at least a little respectful.” 

Tsuzuru went red like he was about to start spilling an entire dissertation about why exactly Sakyo Furuichi was a menace when Izumi cut him off by grabbing Omi by his wrist. 

“It is _imperative_ that you keep this a secret,” she said, hushed, as she led him down the hall. “Misumi summoned him but before you ask, Itaru is _not_ a danger. We have him completely under control more or less and Misumi doesn’t even remember why he summoned Itaru in the first place. Yes, Sakyo knows about him. No, Sakyo does not know that Misumi is his summoner.” 

Izumi came to a stop at one of the dormitory doors. She whirled around and jabbed a finger at Omi’s chest. 

“I will say this _once_ , Fushimi,” she growled. “I told you that because I think you have morals. Whether or not you think the Coven should be shut down by the time your stay with us comes to an end, if you do _anything_ to get Misumi in trouble, I will make you wish Banri and the boys did more than just knock you out. Do you understand?” 

Omi couldn’t remember the last time he’d been threatened by someone so much shorter than him. Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had threatened him and he’d actually been a little scared. He could only nod dumbly. 

Her hand dropped. “Okay. Okay, good. Don’t freak out.” 

She knocked on the door twice and opened it. 

“FUCK OFF, I’M BUSY HERE,” Itaru bellowed, not looking away from the screen as the hand on the mouse whizzed to-and-fro on the mousepad. “EAT HELLFIRE, YOU FUUUUCKING SCRUB.” 

Izumi closed the door and turned to face the guard once more. 

“Was that a…” Omi cleared his throat. “Was that a demon? Playing a video game?” 

“That’s Itaru. You know, say what you will, but I think video games have been an _excellent_ way for him to get all of his bloodlust and rage out nonviolently. I mean, it was either that or therapy but no one in the Coven is licensed so…” Izumi was rambling. 

Omi held up a hand to stop her. He seemed oddly exhausted by the turn of events. “I will admit, this is not something I expected. But… if Sakyo gave him a green light then I don’t really think I’m one to be going against that. I hope you understand that this does very little to help your case.” 

“I do,” she said sadly. “I really do.” 

The two of them went back to the kitchen where most of the kids had started eating already. 

“Which one of you is Misumi?” Omi asked. Tsuzuru handed him his own platter. “Ah, thank you.” 

Misumi waved a spoon in the air as he grinned. “That’s me! Hi, I’m Misumi!” 

Omi stared at the lanky teenager with the big smile that looked as though it carried not a burden in the world. “So… _he_ was the one who—?” 

“Yeah,” Izumi said. She started digging into her own dinner. Not to toot her own horn but it was delicious as always. Mmm, curry. She could feel the stress melting off of her as she ate more. “Did you guys know that spicy foods are supposed to be really good for helping stress management?” 

Tsuzuru stared at the food resentfully. “Am I supposed to assume the way you’ve been sneaking more and more spice into your curry lately is your passive aggressive way of asking for a vacation?” 

“We don’t have money for a vacation on the budget, Director,” Matsukawa said apologetically. 

Izumi ate more curry. Feel the stress melt away, Izumi. Just keep eating your curry. 

“Director really likes curry,” Muku explained to Omi in a soft voice. “I hope you like it as well. We’ve been eating it every dinner so far.” 

“…Surely not every—“ 

“Yes,” Tsuzuru snapped angrily. “Every single dinner. Every single one. The Director has a _problem_ but she refuses to get help for it because she’s still neck-deep in denial that this much curry is not normal!” 

“IT’S ALL I HAVE LEFT, TSUZURU!” Izumi yelled. “TAKE MY PRIDE, TAKE MY JOY, YOU WILL _NOT TAKE MY CURRY_." 

Masumi held out his empty plate. “I love it. Can I have seconds? Can you feed it to me?” 

“See! Some people appreciate my curry!” she said, pointing to the young Hunter. 

“MASUMI DOES NOT COUNT, YOU COULD FEED HIM NOTHING BUT APPLE SEEDS AND ORANGE PEELS AND HE’D STILL SAY HE LOVED IT.” 

Masumi nodded. “It’s true. You could give me orange peels for dinner every day and I’d still want to marry you.” 

Tsuzuru gestured wildly, point proven. “Creepy, but exactly what I’m saying." 

“I hate it when they fight at the table,” Tenma grumbled. “Why can’t they just be like my parents and eat in different dining rooms?” 

“Dining rooms… like, plural? How rich is your family, Ten?” Sakuya asked as he nudged his seat closer. 

Omi’s head was spinning. He chose to not say anything and continue eating. 

…The curry really was quite delicious, to be fair.

* * *

The rules in place were very clear. Omi had free reign of the entire dormitory during the day but would not be able to leave the property. Unless he was in his dorm or using the bathroom, he would not be permitted to be on his own and had to be with a teacher or Matsukawa. And, of course, he would not be allowed to leave his dorm for any reason during nighttime. 

He pressed his hand against the Rune wall. “Is this really necessary?” 

“Yes,” Tsuzuru said firmly, putting the last one in place. “It’s the only way we’ll be able to make sure you won’t break out the window and scamper back to Reni to tell him everything.” 

Yeah, that was pretty fair. “I would stay on alert. They’re probably already looking for me, it’s only a matter of time before they check here as well." 

“…We’ll deal with that when they come knocking. Will your job be alright once you get back?” 

“Is this assuming I don’t inform Mayor Reni about the break-in he specifically warned me about?” 

Tsuzuru nodded. 

Omi sighed. He’d actually thought about that. “I _am_ employed under Sakyo and not the council directly. I may see a cut in work hours or no bonus in the next quarter, but Sakyo isn’t the type to fire people casually. As long as he considers his men loyal and hard working, he stands by them.” 

Tsuzuru hummed noncommittally. “Goodnight, Fushimi. I’ll be back in the morning to let you out.” 

“Goodnight.” 

And that was what he resigned himself to until a few hours later. He was roused from his sleep (admittedly, Omi had always been a light sleeper) from a noise outside in the hallway. Someone was talking. He crept to the door and pressed his ear against the wood. 

“Where did you go today?” 

“…Park.” 

“Really? That must have been nice. The whole day? Did you see anything interesting?” 

“Not really. Just like standing under a tree and, uh… watching people sometimes.” 

That voice wasn’t familiar. Omi opened the door. He couldn’t see who was talking, nor could he crane his neck outside to get a glimpse. 

“Muku?” he called, having recognized that first person. “Is that you?” 

“M-Mister Fushimi!” 

The nervous middle schooler appeared in front of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anybody would be able to hear me. I really hope I didn’t wake you up.” 

“Don’t worry yourself. I’ve been told I have good hearing. Who are you talking to?” 

Muku looked to the side and furrowed his brow like he didn’t know whether or not he was to tell the truth. 

“The, um… The Director told me it might not be a good idea to tell other people. E-Especially, you know, the police.” 

Omi raised an eyebrow. “I… would really urge you to tell me the truth in that case, Muku. Is it something dangerous?” 

He swore to God, if these people had _another_ demon with them… 

Muku stretched forward his pinky finger, expression turning into something much more determined. “You have to promise not to tell this to tell anybody else then, Mister Fushimi. Pinky swear.” 

He linked fingers with Muku. “As long as this isn’t something that could put you or anybody else in harm’s way, I promise it will stay between us.” 

Muku let out a relieved breath. “Good! Ju-chan, come here, let me introduce you.” 

Locking eyes with a tall, downright angry looking ghost of a teenaged boy was the second time that day Omi was stricken unsure of what to say. 

“This is my cousin Ju-chan!” Muku said happily, holding onto the ghost’s (was that possible?) arm. “He saved me from Banri’s zombies and he’s been helping to look after me ever since. He’s out most of the morning but he always comes back to the Coven during nighttime!” 

If Omi had to be honest, it broke his heart to see this “Ju-chan.” He looked very young. And… oddly familiar of someone he knew personally in the past. To have died at such a young age was nothing but a tragedy. 

“Nice to meet you, young man,” Omi said kindly. “My name is Omi Fushimi. I work for Sakyo Furuichi as a part of the Council’s underground police force.” 

Juza nodded once awkwardly. “…Hi. ‘M Juza Hyodo.” 

He flicked his gaze back to Muku. “How did a ghost help you?” 

Muku went quiet. 

“You can tell me the truth.” 

The young Seer tossed a look at his cousin who only shrugged listlessly. 

“When, ah, when Ju-chan saw me getting hurt, he grew these really crazy claws! And he was tangible for a bit. Citron said he was a wraith.” Omi tried _desperately_ to control the growl that threatened to slip out at that word. Wraiths were only bad news. “But… but then the claws went away after a day or two! Ju-chan _protected_ me, I promise, Mister Fushimi. He would never do anything to hurt anyone.” 

He’d never in his life heard of such a thing before. Not a wraith helping someone living, and certainly not a ghost that could turn into a wraith, then back again. But Muku looked like he didn’t even know how to lie, let alone bring himself to.

“And your Director knows about this?” Omi asked. “Knows he was a, uh, wraith?"

“Uh huh! That’s how they met, actually. And she’s the one who let Ju-chan stay!” 

Omi hesitated and then offered a tentative smile. “Alright, then. I’ll leave you to to your conversations. Have a good night, Muku. Go to sleep when you can, I believe you have school tomorrow.” 

“Y-Yes, of course, sir!” 

Omi shut the door and dragged a hand down his face as a sigh escaped him. 

This Coven was only getting more and more complicated.

* * *

He struggled more to get a firm opinion of the Coven the next morning. 

“Cell’s unlocked, inmate,” Tsuzuru said with a deep yawn as he undid the Runes. 

Omi chuckled. “Sorry for making you get up this early.” 

“No, I pulled an all-nighter. I’m actually going to go to sleep now, so you’ll be with the Director.” The Caster waved lazily over his shoulder. “I’ll be up in a few hours, ask her if she can put coffee in the fridge for me.” 

“Will do.” 

It was just before six in the morning. The sun hadn’t come up all the way but the sky had turned a softer, lighter blue than night. And Izumi Tachibana stood in the kitchen, bags under her eyes and hair in such a sloppy ponytail, it hardly constituted as such. 

“Morning, Omi,” she managed as she washed rice in a pot. “If you wanna go back to sleep, feel free to.” 

“Is waking up this early necessary?” he asked. 

“To feed the bottomless pits that live here? You betcha. Half the checks we get from the Council go into the food budget. These guys eat like they’re trying to bankrupt me.” Her words were scornful but her chuckle was fond. 

Omi didn’t feel alright with just abandoning her to make breakfast all on her own. “Is there anything I could do to help? I’m decent when it comes to cooking.” 

“That’s a relief. I’m pretty sure most of the people here only know how to put something in a microwave.” She tossed him two onions and showed him where to find the knives and cutting board. “Tsuzuru’s actually not too bad at cooking. He’s just the type to throw everything into a wok and fry it. It’s always edible which puts him leagues above Matsukawa, but the kids aren’t fond of eating stir-fry two nights in a row.” 

“And they’re okay with curry?” he asked. 

Izumi pointed a spatula in his direction like she was challenging him to a duel. “Curry is good. _Always_. Do not test me on this, Fushimi, I have enough traitorous naysayers to deal with.” 

He backed off immediately. Some eyes invited debate, some eyes did not. And Izumi’s glare most certaintly did not. 

“Good morning!” Misumi cried, bounding out of his room. “Is food ready?” 

Izumi shook her head. “Morning. Just got the rice cooking, Misumi, why don’t you help yourself to some fruit first?" 

“Okay! Do we have any of the strawberries still?” 

And it was like that for about half an hour. Just the three of them in the kitchen, not speaking, just cooking. Misumi sang to himself quietly a nonsense song as he ate. Omi wondered if this was how it was normally here. A part of him was suspicious that perhaps this had all been planned, that this relaxed, casual air was constructed to make him comfortable. But a bigger part of him, an instinct that had saved his life countless times, knew that no amount of planning could counterfeit the feeling of home. 

How curious. 

_But what if it_ is _a lie?_ that first part hissed. _You are an outsider. You do not know the facts. Do not get soft when the fates of children could be on your shoulders_. 

That was when Misumi dropped his cup of water. 

The tinkle of shattering glass was soft but attention-grabbing, as all broken things did. 

“I’m sorry,” Misumi said immediately, voice panicked. The boy had shrunken in on himself through reflex, one eye going wide but pupil going small. He looked like he’d just committed a war crime, not dropped something. “I, I didn’t mean to, it slipped, I'm sorry, I’ll clean it up right—“ 

“STOP!” Izumi yelled. 

Misumi flinched at her shout. Omi would have as well if he’d been anyone less. There was a demand in the Witch's voice that honestly sounded kind of like Sakyo’s when he was giving out orders. She stormed forward and Misumi curled up even more on his chair. 

Omi reached forward to seize her arm. “He said it was a mis—“ 

Izumi took Misumi’s hand in hers, the one that had reached down. “That’s broken glass, Misumi. You’ll cut yourself if you’re not careful. It’s fine, just go grab the broom and make sure not to step on it or anything.” 

Misumi swallowed. “You’re not mad?” 

“Mistakes happen. I’m pretty sure I’ve broken at least three plates since I moved here.” 

Misumi looked so disappointed in himself. Eyebrows drawn into a depressing tent, lips crumpled into a pout. Even his eyepatch looked sad somehow. “But I broke it…” 

Izumi sighed. Tousled his hair with her fingers. “Listen. When we make a mistake, we just need to clean up afterwards and try not to repeat it. That’s all. You got it?” 

“…I got it.” Misumi stood up, still a little shaken. “I’ll go get the broom. I’m sorry, Director.” 

“You’re fine, I promise,” she said. 

Izumi returned to the kitchen counter and began cracking eggs into a large bowl, beating them for an omelette. 

And Omi— 

Omi didn’t know what to make of that.

* * *

The first interview would obviously start with the first student. 

“Tell me, Sakuya,” Omi began. “Has this Coven been treating you… properly, would you say? Has Izumi Tachibana been fulfilling her duties as a teacher?” 

The young man opened and closed his mouth. He shivered a little. 

“Yeah,” Sakuya said with a firm nod. “Very much so, Mister Fushimi.” 

“You can just call me Omi. I don’t think I’m much older than you,” he said. “Why don’t you just tell me what a normal day looks like for you?” 

Sakuya launched into a very detailed description. 

On weekdays, he’d have breakfast and head to school. Stay for drama club, then head back for a smaller lesson. Low-risk spells, like levitation or repair spells. Recently he’d learn how to do a light spell, but couldn’t use it because it was “too bright.” Sakuya hesitated here and admitted, “Actually, blinding. Director said we probably shouldn’t work on it until our order of extra-strength sunglasses come from Amazon.” 

Weekends were reserved for the bigger spells. Teleportation (Sakuya flushed here but Omi didn’t ask why), or spells that speeded up time. “I tried to use the spell on a sapling once. The Director said it was supposed to grow a few inches, but we accidentally got a new tree in the backyard. Banri was _really_ mad at me for messing up the vegetable garden and it took us all day to put it back in order.” 

Sometimes Sakuya would join Citron and Muku for Seer lessons but could hardly follow along, especially with the rate that Muku was going. 

Omi nodded. This all sounded in order. “And outside of magic lessons?” 

“Chores. I like to help the Director out with cleaning. I tried to do the laundry, but I ended up turning all of Tenma’s shirts pink and I was really embarrassed. We play demon poker after dinner on the weekends, and Fridays are our movie nights.” 

Omi’s eyebrows raised. “Movie nights?” 

“Yeah! It turns out Banri has Hulu so now we all just kind of pile up in the living room and watch whatever’s good.” Sakuya went quiet all of a sudden. 

“Is there anything you want to say?” 

The Witchling worked his lips, like tasting the words he was going to say to make sure they were just right. “Omi, um… The last time someone from the Council came to look into things, it was because—Sakyo said something about how the Coven wasn’t good enough, and it was pretty nerve-wracking. Everything was fine when he met the Director, but still. You’re not, this isn’t something like that, is it? Is it just a check-in?" 

Omi didn’t know what to say to that. 

So he asked a question instead. “Would you be sad if the Coven was shut down, Sakuya?” 

Sakuya’s twitching fingers went still like the question had devastated the movement out of him. “It’s _home_.” 

Omi let that statement sit in the air. 

He nodded. “Could you let Muku in next?” 

Sakuya rose, bowed slightly, and left the room.

* * *

“It was _scary_ ,” Muku began. “I was seeing things everywhere. I mean, I always saw stuff kind of ever since last year. But my therapist told me that it was just trauma from Ju-chan’s d—” He choked on the word and refused to say it. The boy took half a minute to collect himself before going on. “I saw these shadowy figures following me around. I was so paranoid about everything. No matter what I did, I’d always see myself dying next. Or my f-family? And it was scary. I got a few antipsychotics prescribed but they made me so, so, so miserable. I was sick, and tired, and I couldn’t do anything. I had to drop out of track because running made me nauseous.” 

“It must have been difficult for you,” Omi said softly. 

Muku’s hands raised like he was batting the sympathies away nervously. “No, no, no! I was fine, sorry, I’m sorry, I was just rambling and unloading onto you, that wasn’t fair of me. It wasn’t that bad, really! Just me being me, I’m not very brave and I’m not strong, so it’s just a habit—“ 

Omi cleared his throat to cut the boy off. 

“Sorry,” Muku said desperately, calming down. 

“So how did you find the Coven?” Omi asked. 

“Ah! Mister Citron found me on the street. He, um, he told Ju-chan to leave me alone because it wasn’t good for him to be around if I could see him but not really _see_ him.” He smiled softly. “Then Sakuya gave me the address to the Coven and I’ve been learning and living here ever since. I—I don’t know if this is too much of a burden on them, so please don’t tell them I said this, but they really saved my life. I don’t know how bad I’d be if they weren’t around!” 

Omi nodded once. “That’s good to hear. Could you send Masumi in, Muku?” 

“Yes! Right away!”

* * *

“If you shut us down, I’ll kill you,” Masumi said. 

Omi stared at him. He gestured to the chair. “Why don’t, uh, why don’t you take a seat first?” 

Masumi took a seat. “If you shut us down, I’ll kill you.” 

Omi almost laughed. “You were the one who hit me over the head that night, weren’t you? Can I ask what you used?” 

“A doorknob,” he said flatly. 

Omi pressed two fingers to his forehead and told himself firmly to choke the laugh down. It was very unprofessional. But this kid’s blunt way of speaking was just undeniably amusing. 

“Do you like staying here, Masumi?” Omi asked. 

“Yes.” 

“…Why? Care to elaborate?” 

“Because she’s here,” he said with a disgusted little crimp of his upper lip, like Omi was stupid for even asking such a thing. 

“The Director? Are you fond of her?” 

“I love her. Don’t make a move on her, I’ll kill you if you do that too.” 

Omi closed his eyes and let himself grin. “Right. Okay, you’re free to go. Thanks for listening.” 

“I’m serious,” Masumi warned as he exited. 

What a weird kid.

* * *

“Was texting me ‘come to the lab’ necessary when I was literally right in the other room?” Izumi asked. 

Instead of answering, Tsuzuru simply grabbed her by her shoulders and forced her onto a chair. He slammed the door shut and cast a quick Rune on it. 

“Tsuzuru! We can’t leave Omi—“ 

“I told Matsukawa to look after him for now,” the Caster said and slid the white blanket off of one table. 

Izumi cringed at the corpse in the glass case. “God… this can’t be healthy for you. Have you thought of picking up another hobby? Like, I don’t know, crocheting?” 

“I work on a manuscript when I have time to spare. Not the point.” Tsuzuru spread his arms wide. “I think I am genuinely one of the smartest Casters to have walked this city’s streets.” 

Izumi crossed her legs and sighed, bidding him to continue. 

He handed her a new knife. 

“Dude, have you considered giving me, like, flowers? Or chocolate? Why knives? Why is it always a knife?” Izumi complained. 

She unsheathed the blade from it’s simple leather casing and frowned. The metal was inky black but she couldn’t feel any magic from Runes emanating from it. Tsuzuru was staring at her in an expectant way, like any version of herself that was smarter would drop to the ground and start praising his mental prowess. 

“I give up, tell me what you did,” she said. 

Tsuzuru drew a quick Barrier Rune instead. 

He pressed his hand to it, to show that it was solid and there. “I want you to stab the wall.” 

“St—?” 

“Just do it.” 

So she did. She gave the Rune a quick slash, completely expecting the knife to bounce off of it like it should have usually. 

Instead, Izumi’s eyes blew wide open when the blade sank into the wall and the Barrier began sparking. She gave the knife’s handle an experimental twist. Her jaw hit the floor when the Barrier completely shattered. 

“You… is…” Izumi sheathed the knife and put it on the table, stepping away from it. That was _not natural_. That was the opposite of normal. “Tsuzuru, what the hell?!” 

“I figured out how to replicate the anti-magic,” he told her. If he was younger, he might have started jumping up and down in his glee. “It took me so long. So, so damn long. I had ask myself why the corpse wasn’t being affected by it when it _should_ have been. If it was reanimated with magic, then—then the slime should have made it unable to move. I asked myself why it made me sick. The slime doesn’t just cancel magic, it rejects _the living,_ Director.” 

Izumi kissed her teeth. 

“Okay, I want you to explain it to me like I’m an elementary schooler that struggles with school,” she said tentatively. 

Tsuzuru rolled his eyes and reached for his whiteboard to draw it out for her. 

“The slime is anti-magic. It cancels magic, but I was wrongfully assuming that it made me sick because of that. It’s anti-magic, yes, but not necessarily poison. It’s just incompatible with living organisms.” He drew a stick figure with X’s for eyes, his experimental corpse. “But it’s completely fine inside of the corpse because it’s surrounded by a layer of rot, death, decomposing tissue… you get the idea. That’s what keeps it contained. _Rot_.” 

Izumi made a note to herself to force this boy to sleep a full night tonight. He looked borderline mad. 

“It took me so many test combinations, so many runs, so many failures. But I did it, I DID IT. With Miyoshi’s help, yeah, but that’s a footnote.” Tsuzuru reached under the table and waved a tiny flask. “I replicated it perfectly. Every property. I can only make small batches, and it takes like a week, but when you tweak, develop the composition a little to adapt to nonorganic materials, you get…” 

He waved to the knife on the table. 

Izumi shuddered. 

“I guess… if you stab someone with that—“ 

“If they’re magic in any way, they would die,” he said simply. “Without question and much, much faster than the first knife I gave you. I think if you nicked your finger on it, you would be hospitalized.” 

“Tsuzuru, that’s—“ 

“Listen to me. _That_ knife would kill you, but that’s because that’s a trial-run weapon. If I wanted to cut the dosage and make a diluted version, I probably could. Something that just leaves you sick. But, um, I’d rather not think of it in a ’stab’ way at all.” Tsuzuru mimicked drawing a Rune in the air. "I’d rather think of it as a skeleton key. Not a single Rune can stand in that way. In the future, we could use it against just about any rogue Caster.” 

She still had her doubts. 

Tsuzuru gripped her by her shoulders again. 

“Think of it at least like this, Director,” he pleaded. “This is just the first step. If you keep letting me work on this project, I’ll be able to find a Rune that _can_ withstand the anti-magic. If a danger like last time pops up—“ 

“It won’t.” 

“But if it does! If it does, we’d have a Barrier that wouldn’t break in seconds. Doesn’t that count for something? Especially since we don’t know who was putting this crap inside of the buried bodies.” 

Izumi sighed deeply. “You really, really want me to continue funding this, don’t you?” 

“If you don’t pay me while I work on this, I’m going to have to start working part-time again,” he admitted. 

“…You probably would make more. Just saying. I don’t pay you that much.” 

“You really don’t, but this is really fun for me.” 

Izumi gently pried his hands off of her. “Okay, Tsuzuru. But you have to promise me you’ll give it a rest for today. You made your breakthrough, you need to _sleep_ tonight.” 

He gasped. “What?! I can’t sleep now! I have so much work—“ 

“NO ARGUMENTS.” 

They stared at each other, raging a silent war. 

Tsuzuru gave first. “Fine.” 

Izumi gave him a fond noogie as she stood up. “Let’s go get some food in you. You’re so skinny, you look like you’d lose a fight against Muku.” 

“That’s very rude. And possibly true. I wouldn’t want to fight him anyways, the kid has a fucking guard wraith. And we’ve _both_ met his dad.” 

Izumi was moving to tie her hair up to make dinner when the two were surprised by an odd sight in the kitchen. Omi was at the stovetop, putting the finishing touches on what looked like fried rice. There were already a few platters on the table, like the sweet-and-sour sausages, a light salad. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Omi said, turning around. “I just used what I could find in the fridge. I figured if I had nothing better to do, I might as well make dinner tonight.”

Tsuzuru sighed. "Matsukawa was supposed to watch you."

"Ah. He let me off the hook so he could go organize some of his vinyls."

"Of course he did."

“You cook?” Izumi asked, and she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't charmed by this. 

“I’d call it more of a casual pastime.” 

Tsuzuru raised his hand. “Second question. Are you single?” 

“Ah?” 

“Just saying, the Director’s single too, I think—" 

Izumi gave him a little kick to his thigh and couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad when Tsuzuru went toppling down. “Ignore him, he’s a little stressed out.” 

Omi slowly turned back to the stovetop. “Alright.” 

“Was the physical attack necessary,” Tsuzuru moaned from the floor. 

“When you were about to choose a potential boyfriend _for me?_ Yes!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was, in my opinion, a little on the slower side
> 
> That being said, next chapter has a LOT of great Omi scenes so I'm okay with that. Thank you for reading! (And, again, check out the rarepair fics! So many of them rock)


	19. Give An Answer That Makes Sense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the somewhat late chapter! What with work hours increasing, the revival event, and trying to put together the funds for Tsuzuru's mummy card... it's been a wild three days.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Content warning: Violence and a kidnapping

Izumi stretched until she could hear her spine crack in a few tense spots. The kids were all out to school, Citron had left earlier to woo some women, Itaru was busy doing a “D&D campaign” with a few friends he’d made on Discord, Matsukawa and Kamekichi were on a three-day-two-night trip to secure some more grimoires. 

And Omi was making her a sandwich. Life was good. 

“Can you put extra hot sauce on it?” she asked him pleasantly. 

He chuckled but did as the Director asked. “I’m not sure whether the amount of spice you consume is good for your intestine.” 

“My insides are made of steel! It’s not a problem.” 

He slid her the plate and took a seat across the table. 

“I suppose it’s time to interview you know, isn’t it?” he asked. 

Izumi took a big bite. “How’d interviewing Itaru go?” 

The Hunter winced. 

She laughed. “Thought as much.” 

“In a way, he is… tame. Or kept preoccupied. Sakyo was right, he’s not too big of a concern.” Omi laced his fingers together. “And your students seem satisfied with the care you’re providing them.” _To put it mildly_ , he thought to himself. 

“So can we put the whole Revolutionary Army theory to rest now?” she asked. 

“I really can’t bring myself to blame the Mayor for having those concerns. Perhaps his level of certainty could do with some revision but he truly has only the best intentions for the community in mind." 

Izumi huffed but didn’t say anything. She chose instead to continue eating her lunch. 

“Why are you so dedicated to this Coven, Miss Tachibana?” Omi asked. 

She raised an eyebrow at him. 

He sighed. “Izumi.” 

Good. “I like teaching. This is my first time giving it a shot and I had no idea it could be so much fun. There’s something about helping students realize their full potential that makes me happy. Plus… I don’t know. I never had a teacher so I know how hard it can be to navigate magic on your own.” 

Omi looked surprised at this. “Wasn’t your father one of the Founders?” 

“Yeah, that’s why he stayed here all the time,” she said 

“You didn’t attend?” 

“Nope.” She flicked her finger and the plate rose into the air. She caught it as it began falling. “Wasn’t allowed to since my magic levels are too low. Fourthborn. And no other magic in my lineage besides whatever came from my great-grandma, bless her soul.” 

“That is… profound. So who taught you?" 

She wiped the corner of her mouth free of hot sauce. The sandwich had been delicious but too small. “I did, from my father’s books. He kept a few older lesson plans and texts in his study back in Akita. I wasn’t allowed in there but how was he going to ever find out, right?” 

Omi chuckled. 

“How’d you learn how to be a Hunter?” Izumi probed. 

And she didn’t miss the way Omi hesitated a little. 

“Are you a Firstborn?” 

“No, my family are all Hunters.” He shrugged. “Hunters aren’t commonly a part of magic society anymore unless they happen to find work for a Council’s force. I was fortunate enough to have been employed by Sakyo Furuichi. Most of what I learned was from my father or on the streets, although Mister Furuichi _did_ insist on a proper regiment my first year.” 

Izumi snorted. “Sounds like him. Is he as rigid as he looks?" 

“I’d rather use the term disciplined.” 

“How long have you worked for him?” 

Omi gave her a small smile. “And here I thought I was the one to be asking questions.” 

“Oh, c’mon, Omi, we kidnapped you. You made me food twice now. I think we’ve experienced enough to call ourselves friends!” 

Thank God he found that funny enough to laugh at. “This would be my fifth year working under him. I started when I’d just turned fifteen, I think?” 

Izumi choked on her own spit. “What?! Wait, hold it, how old are you! Sakyo lets _kids_ join the force?!” 

“I’m twenty,” Omi said kindly. “He doesn’t give any _dangerous_ positions to minors. My family was struggling to make ends meet, I was… in a situation where I couldn’t apply for work among the magic-less. And Sakyo Furuichi always prefers to pay less if he can help it, it worked out for everyone in the end.” 

“Huh…” She leaned back in her chair and mulled that over. “You’re younger than I’d thought you’d be, I was guessing twenty-two at least.” 

“I hear that often.” 

Izumi batted her eyelashes. “Then can I call seniority and ask you to make me another sandwich?” 

Omi rose from the table, shaking his head “Alright, Izumi.”

* * *

“I’m back from school,” Muku greeted, entering the kitchen. “I brought Yuki today as well, I hope that’s okay.” 

The flap of his backpack opened up and the brownie crawled out, hopping down to the floor. 

“Thought Fushimi would be here,” he remarked. “Muku, help me onto the table.” 

Muku did as he was told. The brownie grabbed a fresh-out-of-the-oven cookie from the pile on a plate. 

Omi’s eyebrows rose. “Tailor. I didn’t know you were associated with the Coven.” 

“Eh. Muku’s a friend.” 

“I am?” Muku asked, flushing. 

Yuki’s upper lip curled with scorn. “Don’t be dumb. I let you carry me around in your backpack.” 

The Seer clapped his hands and smiled like he was happy to hear such words. 

“Sakyo’s going crazy trying to find out where you’ve gone,” Yuki continued in a monotone drawl. “No one knows the details but we’re all pretty sure Reni’s putting major heat on him to track you down. Tragic. For him, not me. I bought myself a new roll of crêpe to celebrate the havoc that greeted bureaucracy once more.” 

“They sell crêpes in roll form now?” Izumi asked. 

Yuki’s expression grew somehow even more disgusted. “…Crêpe the fabric, not the french dessert, if that’s what you’re thinking of.” 

“Oh. I knew that.” She hadn’t but she didn’t have to admit it. “Omi decided to give us a little inspection.” 

Yuki rolled his eyes. “Suuuuuure. Who brought him back?” 

“Banri.” 

“Called it.” 

“You knew about the break in and you didn’t report it?” Omi asked, pained. 

Yuki only shrugged. “It’s not like they were going to burn the main hall down, they just wanted a file. Plus, I hate the council and that’s never been a secret so whatever slips down Mayor Reni’s pants and gives him a rash? That’s a win in my book.” 

“You are a _terrible_ medic.” 

“Actually? I'm a fantastic medic, I just happen to hate the people who sign my paychecks.” 

Omi winced. “So just to be clear, you would sew the Mayor back up if he needed it?” 

“As long as he pays me,” Yuki said flatly, biting down on the cookie. “We live in a capitalistic society, Fushimi. Beggars can’t be choosers.” 

“…I always do love the small conversations we have, Tailor.” Omi wiped his hands and glanced at Izumi. “For someone who claims she’s not putting together an army, you certainly do have a collection of opinionated individuals.” 

“It’s always good to be engaged in politics from a young age!” she said brightly. 

“Are you going to tell Reni?” Yuki asked. “If you do, keep my name out of it. My hobby is expensive and I’d rather not lose my job.” 

Omi hesitated. Izumi just grinned. She knew exactly what the answer would be. 

“While it’s against protocol… I don’t think the Coven is an inherently _dangerous_ place,” Omi admitted, choosing his words carefully. “There’s a good chance that Mayor Reni would overreact to hearing the truth so I’ll probably just give him a vague description." 

Yuki accepted the glass of milk that was half his size, and then the thimble that was more suited for drinking in his true form. He sipped his drink. “Like?” 

Omi chuckled dryly. “I was knocked out by an unfamiliar, undocumented individual and kept hostage somewhere dark and underground. Then released to find my way back to the Council. None of which is a lie.” 

“You’re going to lose your job,” Yuki replied. “Reni’s a complete jerk. You _know_ this.” 

“I have faith that Mister Furuichi will help me however he can,” Omi said with a finality that opened no room for arguing. “Either way, I’d rather take a decrease in hours than play a part in kids losing their homes." 

Yuki shrugged and thus the afternoon progressed. 

* * *

“Thank you for being so hospitable,” Omi said as he put the final plate back into the sink. “I think I’m done here. I’ll be returning back to the Main Hall tonight if you don’t mind.” 

Tsuzuru’s arm flashed forward, gripping the back of Omi’s shirt. 

“Don’t leave us, Omi,” he pleaded. “My body can’t survive without you anymore.” 

“MY CURRY IS NOT THAT BAD, TSUZURU.” 

He glared at her. “My lower intestine has never suffered this many nights in a row before.” 

“That sounds like something you blame your lower intestine on, not my delicious cooking!” 

“Omi really is good at cooking though,” Sakuya said with a sigh, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Everything was so delicious, thank you so much.” 

The Hunter smiled gently, cheeks almost going pink. “It was a pleasure. I’m sorry, Minagi, but duty calls.” 

“If you stay here and keep cooking for us, I swear I’ll do anything, even things that Jesus might dislike me for,” Tsuzuru said and no one could tell if he was kidding or not. 

Izumi rubbed her forehead. “I am _begging_ you to stop selling yourself. It’s embarrassing.” 

“I would just like to come back home to something besides the smell of curry, Director. Is that truly so much to ask for?” 

She gave him a kick under the table. “Yes.” 

“I love your curry,” Masumi piped up, scooting his chair closer. 

“I like the Director’s curry too,” Sakuya added in a soothing tone like he was trying to calm everybody down. “But the variety in food choices is really great to have, so I appreciate that Omi chose to cook for us. I think we’re all on the same page, haha, we’re just going in different ways of expressing it!” 

Izumi ruffed Sakuya’s hair. This child was too kind for his own good, honestly. 

“What about you, Tenma?” she asked. “My curry’s good, right?” 

The heir hesitated. 

_Don’t let me down, Sumeragi. I’m counting on you_. 

Tenma squirmed in his seat. “You… put too many vegetables into your curries. If you cut them out and went with more meat, then I’d like it more. Omi’s cooking wins as it is now.” 

Izumi looked away from them all. “I can’t trust any of you.” 

“You can trust me,” Masumi said immediately. 

Omi laughed again, gently easing Tsuzuru’s hand off of his shirt. “I’m honored you all have such high opinions of my cooking. If the Director’ll have me, I’ll drop by every now and then.” 

Yuki got up from his own little corner and jumped down, waving his hand as he went. He straightened his spine, back up to five feet, five inches, and gave his uniform a light dusting. 

“I’ll be heading home too, then,” he said. “My sister’s supposed to bring back some pudding.” 

“I want pudding,” Tenma muttered. 

Yuki bristled. “ _You_ can choke." 

“Can I ask a question about the glamour?” Sakuya asked, diverting the conversation as Tenma tensed up. “How does it, um, grow and shrink your _clothes_ too?” 

Yuki tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “I charm most of my clothes with textile flexibility. It’s just more convenient that way.” 

Sakuya’s eyes glimmered. “That’s really awesome, Yuki! Can you teach me how to do that next time?” 

Yuki stared at the Witchling and then to Muku. “Is he always that peppy? Where does he get the energy from?" 

“Sakuya’s a really nice guy,” Muku could only offer. 

“Hm. Whatever.” Yuki gave Omi a nod. “I’ll see you on pay day then.” 

“Wait, it’s late,” Omi said. “I’ll walk you home before I get on the train.” 

The young boy clicked his tongue. “I’m not a child, Fushimi, I think I can walk home on my own without getting murdered.” 

“First of all,” Izumi interjected, “You’re fourteen which means you are literally a child. If Omi’s willing to walk you back, I really think you should take him up on that offer. I’d make Muku walk around with him too at this hour.” 

“Tsk. Fine.” Yuki walked towards the entryway. 

“Snippety brat,” Tenma said under his breath. 

Yuki’s head poked back into the kitchen. He snapped his fingers and Tenma’s dirty plate slid off the table onto his lap. 

“I heard that,” he said sharply as the Hunter immediately began protesting the tomato sauce that seeped through his pants. “Get moving, Fushimi, I don’t have all day.” 

Omi shook Izumi’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and followed after the younger boy. Tsuzuru let out a dry sob as he left. 

“You’re not going to make friends in the Coven if you’re that bitter towards them, you know,” Omi said as they both slipped on their shoes. 

He held the door open for Yuki who strode past him, head held high. “Who the hell said I wanted to be friends with any of them? I have Muku and I think that’s just about enough, thanks. ” 

“…Sakuya sounded like he wanted to get to know you better.” 

“Well, that’s Sakuya’s problem.” 

They continued their walk in silence. 

Omi froze suddenly. An arm thrust out, halting Yuki in his steps. 

“Who’s there?” he called out into the dark street, looking over his shoulder and then forward again. 

Quiet. 

“Are you losing it?” Yuki snapped. “Did they drug you while they kept you in that building?” 

Omi didn’t reply. His eyes narrowed. 

“I know you’re there,” he said louder. “Show yourself.” 

Nothing. 

And then four darts sank into Omi’s chest, piercing through his shirt. 

He slumped to his knee as his vision began spinning, turning different colors, and then nothingness. His face hit the concrete. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Yuki whispered. He dropped down to the guard. “Fushimi? Fushimi!” 

“Lucky us,” someone said as they took steps out of the shadows. 

“Knew you would be stepping out by now but _two_ mythics? Score,” another crowed from right behind Yuki. 

The brownie whipped around. Two men he couldn’t recognize. The first tall and muscled, tattoos printed all along his bared forearms. A nose with a dent in the middle from having been broken. The second skinny, lanky, and sneering fox-faced. He had a thin rifle in hand, probably filled with even more of the things that had knocked Omi out cold. 

Poachers. 

There was no time to hesitate. Yuki bolted down the alley and began sprinting as fast as he could. 

“Get him!” 

Speed could be sacrificed. Yuki shrank down just as a dart whizzed overhead. He quickly turned a corner. 

If he could find a gutter, or anything to crawl into, he’d be able to get away from them. But it _was_ late, and the streetlamps overhead offered nowhere near enough light to navigate. His chest burned. 

“Don’t make it worse for yourself, brownie boy!” Fox Face laughed, much too close for comfort. 

The sound of the poacher’s footsteps were light but fast. Too fast to come from magic-less. 

_Fuck_. They were Hunters. Yuki would have laughed a little. So he was the Hunted then? The street’s walls disappeared and he changed course for the bit of woodland available. He dove under the first bush he could find, pushing aside the branches, and curled up into a tiny ball. As Yuki pressed his back against the bush’s main trunk, he peeked through the foliage. 

For the first time in his life, Yuki prayed. 

“ _Be safe whenever you go outside_ ,” his sister had warned him countless, countless times. “ _You never know when a poacher will be there_.” 

“ _We have to be careful. Councils don’t shell out resources to save mythics when we need help._ ” 

“ _If you’re caught, you’re gone for good, Yuki. Don’t ever be caught_.” 

Was this divine punishment, then? For having rolled his eyes at those words? For being skeptical it could happen to him? 

Fox Face appeared. He had a wide, eerie smile on his face as he slowly turned around the clearing. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the poacher crooned. “I’m being nice! You won’t feel a thing. We might not even sell you for parts like your big friend, I’m sure we’d find a nice family overseas willing to buy you alive!" 

Yuki was going to throw up. 

His heart was going to give out. 

“Aaaaaare you… _here_ maybe?” Fox Face asked, giving the bush nearby a swift kick. “No? What aboooooout HERE?” 

Another kick. Another miss. He was getting closer. 

Yuki squeezed his eyes shut. 

There was no way he could run. 

He needed someone to _help,_ but no one was going to help him. No one was going to come save him. 

Except— 

Yuki threw his body to the side as the kick to the shrubs came. Branches nicked his skin and tore his uniform but he couldn’t care less. As he shot to his feet and began running again, he bellowed at the top of his lungs: 

“MUKU!” 

Fox Face’s boot caught him right at his back. Yuki didn’t even have the air left inside anymore to scream. He went flying through the air before smashing onto the ground, skidding slightly on the dirt and leaves. 

“That’s what I like about you brownies when you’re small,” Fox Face sang. “So light! You’re so much easier to throw around in that size.” 

Yuki cracked open an eye to stare down the barrel of the dart gun. 

At the size he was at, Yuki would be lucky if the dosage just killed him, he thought bitterly. 

Fox Face shook his head and instead slung the rifle over his shoulder. “Nah, nah… That’s too easy, right? Told you it would have been better to just go along quietly.” 

The heel of his shoe smashed down without mercy onto Yuki’s temple. 

The bliss of nothingness welcomed him into its arms.

* * *

Muku’s hand clenched against his will. Something cold poured onto his wrist and arm. 

“Dude, what the hell!” Tenma whined. “You’re wasting all the strawberry-flavored toothpaste!” 

Muku dropped the now-much-emptier tube and hastily wiped the pink goop off of his arm before jettisoning towards the office. 

“Director!” he cried, already starting to hyperventilate from the uncomfortable, cold squeeze on his stomach. “Director, _Yuki’s in trouble!_ ” 

She put down the grimoire with a frown on her face. “Excuse me?” 

He tried to get the words out but found that he couldn’t. 

“Muku, MUKU. Calm down, you’re breaking down,” Izumi said, coming over to grip his shoulders. “Breathe. In, out, in out. Tell me what you just said.” 

“Yuki,” he sobbed as his vision blurred with tears. “I was—I was the bathroom, b-brushing my teeth, and then, the mirror, it, I saw him, he was in a forest, and someone else was there, someone with a g-gun, and Yuki was scared, and he needs our help NOW!” 

Izumi stared at him. 

“DIRECTOR!” Muku screamed. “I KNOW I SOUND CRAZY BUT YOU _HAVE TO BELIEVE ME, PLEASE, YUKI NEEDS HELP!_ ” 

“I believe you,” she said immediately but the sound of her voice made it very clear she didn’t. “If you think that’s best, we’ll… head to his house and make sure he’s there safe, alright?” 

“There’s no time!” the Seer wailed. 

Izumi squeezed him tight. “Right. Do you think you’d be able to recognize where he was?” 

“I-I think so?” 

“Good.” Izumi took his wrist and pulled him along. She breezed through the living room. “Citron, come with us.” 

Citron opened his mouth as though he was about to ask what for, but one look at Muku and his expression darkened. He got up from the couch and hurried after the two of them. 

“Where are you going?” Masumi asked. “Can I come with you?” 

“Contraceptives would be a good idea, Director,” Citron hissed to Izumi as she opened her mouth to give a resolute rejection. 

She grimaced. “I think you mean protection. But—sure. Right. Masumi, grab Tenma and come after us, we don’t have a second to spare.” 

“Okay.” 

Everyone grabbed their pair of shoes, only putting them on once they were already out the door. The second they left the Coven’s doors, Muku tore himself free and began running. 

“Holy _shit_ , that kid is fast,” Izumi whispered to herself, picking up her pace in a desperate attempt to keep up. “Muku, slow down! It’s not safe to go on your own!” 

He’d either not heard her at all or just flat out ignored the words from her mouth. A few minutes later and Izumi’s legs felt like they were on fire. Muku skidded to a stop, the soles of his sneakers nearly squeaking from the halt in momentum. 

The young boy fell to his knees and pressed his hand to the concrete. 

“Omi,” Muku whispered. He bit his lip hard enough to bleed. “He was here. Just—just a few minutes ago. I can’t see more than that.” 

Izumi whirled around to spot Citron catching up to them. “Muku says Omi was here last.” 

The older Seer closed his eyes and let his magic leak out into the air around him. 

“Muku is correct,” he confirmed. “I see… a car. Adidas?” 

“I think you mean a van.” 

“Van, yes, yes. Two men. They put Omi into the back and—and a…” A crease appeared in his brow as he focused for the details. “A bag. A sack?” 

Muku let out a terrified sob and clapped a hand over his mouth to trap it in. “Y-Yuki, that was Yuki, I know it is.” 

“Who would do such a thing?” Izumi whispered in horror. 

“POACHERS,” Muku wailed. “Yuki t-told me about them, he said… he said the Council doesn’t help p-poaching cases and that’s why mythics hate them. Director, you can’t let him die, YOU CAN’T LET HIM DIE, WE HAVE—“ 

She clapped a palm onto each of his cheeks, smushing his lips together to stop the rambling. “We’re not going to let him down but we’re not going to get anything done if you panic like this. Do you hear me? Keep yourself breathing and calm if you want, Muku, I know that this is scary but you need to get your head in the game right now.” 

He sealed his lips and nodded frantically, forcing his breathing to slow and deepen. 

“Where did they go,” she shot in Citron’s direction. 

He winced. “Director, my magic is not… omni—omni—“ 

“Omniscient?!” 

“I do not know where that car is going.” 

“YOU TRACKED SAKUYA IN _FRANCE_ ,” Izumi roared. 

“Because he _teleported_ there!” Citron snapped back in a rare show of frustration. “He had magic… footsteps! To _exactly_ where he was. I can track that fine with magic, I cannot track a car I have never seen before!” 

Izumi felt the blood drain from her face. She had relied too heavily on Citron's magic up until now. 

_Think,_ she commanded herself angrily. _Think, think, think!_

“I’m calling Sakyo,” Izumi said finally and pulled her phone from her back pocket. “It won’t hurt to get him on the case.” 

Her call went straight to his messages. She clenched her jaw to stop the swear from pouring out. 

“Director, what are we going to do,” Muku whispered in a tight voice. “W-What’s going to happen to him?” 

Masumi and Tenma came running towards them. 

“What are we doing here?” Tenma asked with a flushed face. “Why can we not have even one calm night?!” 

And it was the sight of Tenma that reminded her. 

“Can you track someone if you have their magic residue?” she asked Citron immediately. 

He flinched. “Perhaps. I am not certain.” 

“We’ll take our chances. Back to the dorms.”

* * *

Citron ran one finger all along the brim of the dirty plate. His face was scrunched in concentration. 

The entire Coven waited around him with breaths held. 

“Dark,” Citron said softly at last, eyes still closed. “I do not think Yuki is awake. This would be easier if he were.” 

“Please try, Citron, please,” Muku pleaded. “I know you can do it.” 

The Seer’s fist clenched and unclenched. His eyelids shifted like his eyes were flicking back and forth underneath them. 

“Metal walls,” he offered slowly. “Not… not a room. I do not think so. It is too small.” 

That could have been anything, Izumi thought in despair. “Any other detail, Citron _._ That’s not enough to narrow it down.” 

His eyes snapped open and she nearly flinched at the way his blue eyes glowed. The light died down and he returned to normal. A bead of sweat traced its way down the side of his face. 

“The walls are wavy,” he said in a low voice. “That is all I can say, Director. That is all I can See.” 

“Is Omi with Yuki?” 

The Seer shook his head. “Not from what I saw." 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The word went on loop as Izumi collapsed into the nearest chair she could, knees weak. 

Banri strolled in with his hands in his pockets, a picking wire held between his lips. 

“Yo,” he mumbled around it. “Sakuya texted me to come over.” 

“No point,” Izumi ground out. “There’s _nothing_.” 

Muku started crying again as his entire frame shook. Sakuya instantly wrapped his arms around the younger Seer to comfort him silently. 

“What even happened?” Banri asked as he took out the wire from his mouth and stuck it into his sloppily done ponytail. “Why’s everyone acting like there’s a fuckin’ funeral, Christ.” 

Tsuzuru shot him a look to _shut up_. “Yuki’s gotten kidnapped. Poachers.” 

“Damn, really? Sucks for Rurikawa, I guess.” 

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!” Muku exploded, shoving Sakuya aside. Banri had eight inches on him but the fury in Muku’s eyes made the delinquent take a step back. “WHAT IS YOUR _PROBLEM,_ HUH? YOU—YOU TREAT MY COUSIN LIKE GARBAGE AND YOU CAN’T TAKE ANYTHING SERIOUSLY. YUKI COULD BE _DEAD_ , HE COULD BE D-D-D—“ 

“Yuki is not dead,” Citron interrupted him. “I would not be able to see through his eyes if he were.” 

Muku let out another frustrated bawl. 

“I _hate_ you!” he screamed into Banri’s face. “I hate you!” 

Banri rolled his eyes. “Must be the genetics in Hyodo’s family to make them all so annoying.” 

“That is ENOUGH, Banri,” Izumi hissed. 

He clicked his tongue a few times in thought. “So? Someone fill me in on the details. What have we got so far?” 

“A small, um, enclosure,” Sakuya said when no one else spoke. "Too small to be a room. Citron says there are metal walls and that they’re wavy…?” 

Banri’s lips set like he was thinking deeply. A moment passed and he crossed his arms. 

“A storage container,” he said. 

The entire room might as well have stopped breathing. 

“Come again?” Izumi asked. 

“Storage container. You know, the crap they put on cargo ships? Sounds like a storage container.” Banri snorted as he shook his head. “No one here’s got a single brain, huh? Man, it’s like a free trip to the circus every time I come by.” 

Izumi whipped her face towards Tsuzuru who had already pulled his phone out to do a quick search. 

“Nine different locations for overseas export facilities,” he said. “Three past the warehouses, four past the business district, and the last two are up north in the plaza’s direction.” 

It was better than nothing. 

“Banri, Muku, Sakuya, Masumi,” Izumi rattled off, taking a quick look around the room. “You all head for the warehouses. Citron, Misumi, Tenma, you head for the business district.” 

“Kazunari texted back, he said he’s on his way,” Tsuzuru interrupted. 

“Tell him to head for the business district and wait for the three of them to arrive. I don’t want _any_ of you to be on your own for even a second tonight, do you hear me?” She waited until everybody nodded. “Good. Tsuzuru and I will go for the plaza.” 

“If any of you find anything, text the group chat,” Tsuzuru said as they all started towards the front door. “Sakuya, don’t forget what I told you to do if someone tries to hurt you.” 

“I won’t,” the boy swore. 

The Caster spared Misumi just one tired look. “I suppose we won’t have to worry about your group if you’re with them?” 

“Nooooope!” Misumi cheered, saluting him. “I’ll make sure Ten and Citron are suuuuper duper safe! Promise.” 

And with that, the Mankai Coven split up.

* * *

It was the first time Banri had ever been to an export facility. 

“Christ,” he muttered angrily, staring at the near overwhelming number of metal boxes piled on top of each other, stretching farther than the eye could see. “We seriously gotta look through all of this shit? Blows.” 

“Masumi and I’ll go that way,” Sakuya said, pointing to the opposite side. “Muku, Banri, you guys go that way. Be safe.” 

Banri waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Seer, you think you can make the job easier and just, I don’t know, fuckin’ see where your tiny friend is?” 

Muku gave him an angry look and stormed off without a word. 

“…I’ll take that as a no, damn.” 

“Please don’t fight with him, Banri,” Sakuya pleaded. “His friend was kidnapped and he’s worried sick.” 

“Whatever.” 

Muku was fucking _useless_ , Banri realized very quickly. The kid couldn’t even open the storage boxes right, straining against them with his spindly arms to no avail. 

“Move it,” he snapped, shoving Muku to the side and giving the first door a firm tug. Nothing but cardboard boxes. 

Banri made a quick note to himself. They keep the storage containers unlocked. Sounded like a good future opportunity to just peek around and steal whatever looked expensive or interesting. 

Muku suddenly stiffened. He looked down the stretch of boxes. 

“He’s awake,” he whispered. 

The kid ran down and Banri had to give him props for being a speedy little shit, at the very least. 

“You can’t even open the boxes on your own, asshole,” Banri called after him. “Wait up.” 

Muku froze. He whirled around and didn’t budge until Banri was in front. 

He prodded his chest with one finger. “Banri Settsu. I have never in my entire life met someone as—as _terrible_ of a human being as you are.” Muku swallowed. “And I really hate using bad words, but you make me s-so, so angry. _Fuck_ you.” 

Banri raised an eyebrow. Clapped politely. 

“Congrats on popping your F-bomb cherry,” he sneered. 

Muku flushed red and pointed to a box further down. “Yuki’s in that one. Open it.” 

“What’s the magic word?” 

Sakisaka did this really funny thing where instead of going red, he turned purple when upset. Banri almost laughed. He would have, actually, nothing was stopping him from it, except Muku's expression turning terrified. He launched himself at Banri’s middle, sending them both down. 

A gun fired. 

“FUCK,” Banri yelped. 

He shoved Muku off of him and hopped to his feet, keeping low. 

Where’d it come from? 

The door on one containment box opened further. A stranger walked out of it, gun in hand. He was an ugly looking bitch with a broken nose and tattoo sleeves that were trying too hard. 

“That would have killed you in one shot,” the asshole said gruffly. “You should have let it.” 

He cocked it again. 

“RIGHT,” Muku yelled from the ground. 

Banri for once in his life chose not to question someone’s orders. Perhaps from a survival instinct. He hauled his entire body to the right like Muku had said just as Ugly’s finger pulled the trigger. 

Banri shot forward, foot first. 

The thing with guns, Banri realized in that moment with glee, was that when someone happened to get really close, really fast, whoever was holding it panicked and couldn’t even use the damn thing properly. He told himself he wouldn’t make the same mistake as Ugly if he ever got a firearm. 

“Suck my dick, shithead,” Banri said gaily as Ugly smashed to the floor. 

He leaned down to pick up the gun, switched off what he could only assume was the safety, and slipped it into his back pocket. Then, half for good measure, half because he could, Banri gave the asshole a swift kick to his face. He relished in hearing the crack of cartilage. 

“Banri, that’s _enough_ ,” Muku snapped. “He’s down. We have to get to Yuki.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He leaned down and grasped Ugly by the back of his shirt. His face was dragging on the ground and he was probably rubbing some skin off, but Banri couldn’t bring himself to care. “Which door?” 

Muku pointed towards a green one. 

“Oh, nice, like the shrimp’s hair,” Banri noted. “Didn’t think these guys would care about coordination. You think they did it on purpose? How fuckin’ funny would that be.” 

Muku didn’t reply. 

“Just trying to make some conversation, damn. You’re as big of a bitch as your cousin sometimes.” 

“CAN YOU JUST OPEN THE DOOR,” Muku yelled. 

Banri dropped Ugly and kicked the containment box’s door open with his foot. 

Muku hurried inside ad collapsed to his knees in front of a tiny, tiny cage. The size of two shoeboxes piled on top of one another. 

“Yuki, I’m here,” the young Seer sobbed. “Oh my god, Yuki… your face… Hold on a second, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” 

With shaking hands, he undid the little latch at the top and let the side of the cage fall away. 

Yuki slowly crawled out of the cage on his hands and knees. Strands of sweat-dampened hair clung to his forehead as he rose to his feet. His expression was unreadable. Dried blood still clung to the side of his face from a nasty gash on his temple. A dark bruise surrounded the wound. 

His gaze turned dark when he got a sight of Ugly on the ground outside. 

“Settsu,” he commanded, voice low. “Bring him inside. Hand me the bar." 

Banri didn’t even hesitate. He tapped the large iron rod on the side of the containment box door with his fingernail to test it’s durability. What was that Rune for Cut again? From the book he’d stolen from the office. He scribbled it on the top and bottom of the iron, relishing in muted joy as the metal cracked in both locations. He tore it out and rolled it over to Rurikawa. 

Then he put his heel on Ugly’s ribcage and gave it a quick shove. Step forward. Another one. 

Until Ugly was right in front of Yuki beside the metal bar. 

Yuki grew to a human size and picked the bar up, testing the weight of it a few times. Face completely blank of any emotion. He paused and waved a hand over his ears, letting them turn pointed. 

Muku stiffened. “Yuki? W-What are you going to do with that?” 

“Get out,” Yuki said simply, refusing to look his friend in the eyes. 

Muku reached forward and grasped Yuki’s fingers in his own, running the pad of his thumb along the knuckles in an effort to pacify him. 

“Let it go, Yuki,” Muku pleaded. “Please, you don’t have to do this. You’re better than that.” 

Yuki tore his hand away. 

“GET OUT!” he screamed, a shrill caterwaul that cracked at the end. 

Banri put his hands on Muku’s shoulders. “You got it, shrimp. We’re on our way." 

Muku struggled against him. “But Yuki's going to _hurt_ —“ 

Banri began to push the Seer towards the door none too gently. “If that fucker didn’t want to get hurt, he shouldn’t have fucking kidnapped Rurikawa. Simple math on that one. Punishing idiots is a thing society needs to do more of." 

“B-But Banri!” 

Banri cast only one more look over his shoulder. “Make it count, Rurikawa. I’m giving you three minutes, I’ve already wasted enough of my fuckin’ time.” 

“I need only two,” the brownie spat. 

“And don’t kill him, that’s putting more shit on our plate than it’s worth.” 

“I wasn’t going to. Get out." 

Yuki waited for the sound of the door screeching shut once more. Little beams of light filtered in through the cracks along the containment box’s corners. The room was dim but not impossible to see through. 

He let the end of the metal pipe drag on the cement floor with a sickening screech. “Hey. You.” 

The poacher spat blood on the floor and looked up. Blood poured from his nose. It was with no small amount of angry delight that Yuki realized that Tattoo Sleeves had broken it once more. 

Yuki pressed a hand to his chest and offered a small, small smile. “I look like a human when I’m like this, don’t I?” 

He ran his fingers through his hair. Sweaty. Disgusting. Clotted with his own blood. 

"When I have this glamour on, I look the exact same as you do,” Yuki said, voice still low and soft and tight with danger. “There’s no difference between us, really.” 

The poacher heaved in air like he was going to say something. 

“So why?” Yuki cut him off, finally letting his voice grow louder. “Why do you _always_ come after us?” 

_No one helps people like us, Yuki._

_We can only trust our family in this cruel world, Yuki._

_When you’re born a brownie, you have to make sure you’re safe. You have to protect yourself. Because no one else out there is going to help you, that’s always how it’s been._

_Stay safe, Yuki._

"What’s the fucking difference?” the young boy asked. Begged. _Begged_ for an answer that made sense, that would explain how the world could be so ugly and twisted. "What makes me a, a fucking object that doesn’t matter? Why does the fact that I’m a brownie mean that my opinion, or the way I think, or the way I feel, means NOTHING when I can look _just_ like you do?" 

Silence. 

“ANSWER ME!” Yuki demanded as his vision blurred with hot tears. “WHY! WHY AM I _NOTHING_ TO YOU?!” 

The poacher spoke but Yuki couldn’t hear him over the roar of blood in his ears. 

The brownie let out a strangled scream and hefted the iron pipe high, before bringing it down with a sickening crack.

* * *

“You take that side, I’ll take the other,” Tsuzuru told her. “Meet back every ten minutes, right?” 

“You got it, Minagi.” 

They split paths. 

Most of them were left unlocked, thankfully. She made quick progress, pushing a door open to take a peek, sliding it shut when nothing was inside but boxes. 

Forty minutes and four check-ins with Tsuzuru later, she finally came across a sign of life. As Izumi opened the final door, she heard _rustling_ coming from the inside. 

“Omi? …Omi, are you in there?” Izumi called. “Yuki?" 

Nothing but ragged breathing. She opened her phone for the flashlight, only to be greeted with a text from Banri saying they’d found Yuki and were bringing him back to the dorms. Her knees knocked together in relief. Thank _goodness_. 

But now wasn’t the time to jubilate. Omi was still to be found. She turned on the light and shone it around. 

There were only two cages inside the containment box, housing animals rather than Hunter or brownie. 

In one cage was the biggest dog she’d ever seen in her whole life. From the way it was curled up, it looked to be the size of a grizzly bear. A muzzle strapped its jaws shut. In the other cage was—a bird? It was only a few inches shorter than her, standing on two long regal legs reminiscent of a flamingo’s. It had silvery blue feathers, with a giant, slightly curved beak. It looked more like a dinosaur than an actual bird. 

“You poor things,” she whispered, kneeling down in front of the first cage. The dog raised its head and her heart melted at the sight of its sad puppy dog eyes. 

Izumi hesitated and slowly presented her palm. The dog leaned forward to sniff at it through the bars of its muzzle. 

“It’s okay,” Izumi said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

The dog whimpered again. 

Izumi nodded to herself. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” 

There was a heavy padlock on each cage. It would have been stellar to have a Caster around right about now, she thought bitterly. She thumbed the keyhole and tried to flood magic into it. A small stream trickled out from her fingertips but not nearly enough to do anything. 

Was there anything she could do? 

Izumi hesitated and then clasped her hands together. “Itaru, um, if you’re there and you have some free time. I’d really, really appreciate you showing up.” 

A second ticked by, another, and then a ring of fire burst to life right in front of her. 

The demon rose forth from it, holding a small plate of chicken nuggets. 

“You’re lucky I was taking a food break,” he grumbled. He looked around the small storage unit and frowned. “Tell me, halfblood. Do you make it a habit of constantly going to disgusting little hovels? I met you in a warehouse, now this…” 

Izumi pointed to the padlock. “Do you think you could break this for me?” 

Itaru peered through the bars at the dog who had raised its head. A growl rumbled deep in its throat. 

“Dinner?” Itaru asked. 

“THE FUCK, ITARU? NO!” 

“I’m _kidding_. None of you can take a joke like a Discord server.” Itaru sighed and rubbed his forehead. “You have no idea who or what this even is, do you?” 

Izumi hesitated. “Um. I don’t know. A husky?” 

“A _husky?_ You imbecile.” 

“I don’t know my dog breeds, I’m sorry.” 

Itaru coughed a little. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Dog breeds… Truly, your stupidity can be a marvel sometimes. I suppose I have a spare minute. I expect you to bring back an assortment of chips tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, yeah, goat boy, just do your thing.” 

Itaru put his palm onto the padlock and looked much too pleased with himself as it shattered completely into little pieces. 

“The other one too, please.” 

Itaru turned around and gawked at the giant bird. “What in the blazing fires of hell is that thing?” 

“You don’t know?” 

“No!” 

Izumi shrugged. “Whatever it is, it shouldn’t be in a cage. Please let it out.” 

“Halfblood, that bird looks like it could eat half of you for breakfast, and leave the other half for dinner,” the demon drawled. "Do you think it’s wise to let it out just because your moral compass bids you to? I am _begging_ you to show just an inkling of critical thought for once.” 

She grinned a little. “Listen, we’ve both met Kamekichi. If that bird eats me, it’ll still only be the second biggest aviary asshole I’ve met in my lifetime.” 

Itaru sighed. “Your funeral, not mine.” 

He broke that lock as well, at the same time consuming the last chicken nugget. 

“That’s enough work for the day,” he said. He stepped back into the hellfire portal. “Chips. Don’t forget them.” 

The ring collapsed in on itself and Izumi was left on her own once more, with only a dog and a bird. 

“Shh, shh, you’re okay now,” Izumi cooed as she slowly opened the dog’s cage first. “That big scary goat man won’t hurt you, I promise. Come on, let’s go home.” 

The dog was as tall as she was despite being on all fours. It was like a big furry tank. 

“Who’s a good boy!” Izumi asked, scratching underneath its chin. “You are! You’re a good boy! You’re the goodest, bestest boy ever! Aren’t you!” 

The dog rolled over onto its stomach, shaking the entire storage unit as it fell to the ground. Izumi went wild, rubbing every inch of the dog’s belly. 

“Good boy! Good _boy!_ Bad man put you in a cage but you’re still such a sweetie!” she cried in a baby voice she’d deny ever using. 

There was just something about dogs that made her lose every intelligent thought. But now, the bird. 

She steadily opened the cage, a bit warier than she had been with the pup. 

The unfamiliar bird stared at her coldly, before ducking its head once in her direction. A tiny bow. 

“I have _no_ idea what you are,” she confessed to the bird. “But I’m guessing you’re something magical if you ended up here. Also not sure if you can understand what I’m saying, but Kamekichi can, so… Would you like to come home with me?” 

The bird didn’t react much. But it also did take a few steps in her direction instead of immediately taking flight out the open door, so that should have counted for something, right? 

“Great!” Izumi said brightly, dusting off her knees. “Let’s go, then, we have to go find my friend Tsuzuru.” 

God, she really hoped no civilians would see her on the return trip. This would be very difficult to explain. But before she could, the dog leaned down to nudge her calf with its nose. It leaned forward on its two front legs, shaking it’s tail wildly. 

Izumi paused. “I… are you telling me to ride you? Are you sure about that?” 

The giant bird stretched open its massive wings and rocketed into the air. It perched onto the dog’s back, right behind its neck with the collar, and stared expectantly at Izumi. Like asking _Well? Are you getting on or not?_

She slowly swung one leg over the dog’s back and gripped fistfuls of its fur tightly. 

And then let out a hysterical shriek as the dog rocketed out of the storage unit into the night. 

“SLOW DOWN,” Izumi screeched. “HEEL!” 

The dog stopped in its tracks. Only a second had passed but the storage unit they’d left was already far, far away. 

“Director?” Tsuzuru’s voice called out from somewhere. “I heard screaming. Are you alright?” 

“I’m thriving,” she replied loudly. “Over here!” 

“Kazunari just said his group couldn’t find anything, they’re going back to the—" Tsuzuru came round a corner and promptly fell onto his ass. “WHAT THE _FUCK_ _IS THAT_ , DIRECTOR?” 

Izumi slid off of the dog’s back and began rubbing it’s head, despite it being almost out of reach. “I met this widdle adowable puppy in one of the crates! Also, the bird up there, but I don’t really know what that is. I think I’m gonna name the dog Fido!” 

“ _PUPPY?_ ” Tsuzuru bellowed incredulously. He raised a shaking finger. “THAT’S A FUCKING WOLF, DIRECTOR! A WOLF THE SIZE OF KYUSHU ISLAND!” 

“Not just _a_ wolf, Tsuzuru,” Izumi crooned, giving the dog a kiss. “Our dog now! Let’s go check in on Yuki real quick before we finish looking for Omi.” 

“NO. NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. YOU ARE NOT BRINGING THAT THING TO THE DORMS. I DRAW THE LINE AT _COLOSSAL WOLF,_ DIRECTOR."

* * *

“What is that,” Masumi asked flatly upon opening the door. 

Izumi grinned proudly from her perch on top of the wolf. Tsuzuru quickly took his hands off from her waist, where he’d clung to her for stability. Masumi would only get mad and try to choke him in his sleep that night. 

“Our new friend!” Izumi said. She leaned down to give Fido another kiss. “Isn’t he beautiful? His name is Fido, say hi to him.” 

Masumi immediately crouched down. “Woof.” 

“Masumi, what are you doing.” 

“Woof. I’m a dog. Give me a kiss too.” 

Izumi and Tsuzuru stared at him. They looked at each other. 

Izumi hopped off of Fido and began to slowly and carefully corral him indoors, ignoring her student. The strange bird took its cue to spread its wings and fly off. “C’mon, you beautiful big boy, welcome to your new home." 

Masumi scowled. “Another rival.” 

“It’s a _dog_ , you weirdo,” Tsuzuru said with exasperation. “Yuki got back, right?" 

“Yeah.” 

"Tsuzuru, can you lead the bird to the backyard?” Izumi called over her shoulder. 

The Caster and the bird locked eyes. Tsuzuru cleared his throat and bowed down to it, before gesturing with his best Customer Service smile. “Let me just, uh, let me show you the way to the yard, Mister… Bird.” 

The bird followed after him with strange, tilting steps of its long legs. 

Izumi held out her palm to make Fido sit. Which he did, but only to get up and follow her when she began to walk away. 

“No, no, Fido, you stay here,” she said sweetly. “I’ll be right back, but I don’t want to overload them. One at a time, right?” 

The dog keened, staring up at her sadly. 

“Pleeeeease, Fido?” 

The big tank of fur hunkered down, curling up into a massive brown ball. But its tail wagged, which Izumi took as a good sign. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

She wiped her palms on her jeans, took in a deep breath, and walked into the living room. 

The boys were all sitting, either on the couch or on the floor. Kazunari was on the armchair with Misumi sitting on top of him sideways, feet hanging off the armrest. 

“Hey, Director,” Kazunari said quietly with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

Izumi couldn’t even give him a greeting in reply. She rushed forward, sliding the last few inches on her knees in front of Yuki. 

“Oh, Yuki,” Izumi whispered, voice heavy. Her hands reached upward. “May I?” 

The boy didn’t say anything. She gently cupped the sides of his face, turning it this way and that to get a good look at the damage done. Someone had cleaned it up and slapped a big bandaid over it but it couldn’t hide just how bad he’d been hurt. And it wasn’t just for the angry bruise that peeked out from behind the edges of the bandage. 

It was in the way Yuki’s eyes were angry but unfocused. In the way his hands were curled into fists so tight, the knuckles had gone pale. It was in the way the brownie that always had a sharp word to share was totally, utterly silent. 

“You’re safe now,” Izumi told him sincerely. “I won’t let anything touch you while you’re here.” 

He gave her the barest, smallest nod. Just one. 

“Would you like to go home? Would that help?” she asked him. 

Yuki jerked his face out of her grip like those were the words he needed to snap out of his stupor. “No. My parents are going to lose it if they see me like this. My sister, oh my god, she’s never going to let me leave the house _again_. Please don’t tell them.” 

Izumi frowned. “Yuki, your parents have to know, they’re—“ 

“You tell me parents about this and I’ll shut the Coven down myself,” the brownie spat down at her. “Don’t think about it. Just—just please _shut up_ and just let me stay here for the night. I already called them from your phone and told them I’d be staying with Muku again.” 

Izumi stiffened at the threat. And then she forced herself to relax. 

“You just went through a traumatic experience,” she told him firmly. “Come with me to my room and I’ll patch you up the best I can. There… might be a bit of a scar left but my healing spells work best on the internal. The bruising and hurting will fade at least.” 

Yuki nodded. 

“You can drop the glamour,” Izumi added. 

“I don’t want to.” 

“…Alright, Yuki.” She got up and held out her hand. The boy glared at it and got to his feet on his own. He raised his nose into the air and walked towards the dormitory hall on his own. 

“Prideful to the end, that one,” Banri said from his place on the floor where he was flipping through his phone lazily. “Can I crash a bit? I’m tired and I don’t have to get back home until sunrise, I can sneak through the window.” 

“You can stay in my room,” Sakuya offered. “Um, I don’t think I have pajamas in your size though, I’m sorry.” 

“’S fine, I can just wear these.” 

Muku cleared his throat. “I’ll… I’ll… go fix up my room for Yuki. You can send him over when you’re done with him, Director.” 

Kazunari glanced at Misumi. “Sumi, you mind if I stay the night with you?” 

“Yaaaay! Sleepover with Kazu again!” 

Tsuzuru appeared with a few feathers stuck in his hair. “Kazunari, fantastic. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna need your help in the labs tonight.” 

“Tsuzuroon, _please_ no,” Kazunari wailed. “I just took an exam this week, dude, I can’t pull another all-nighter.” 

Misumi pouted, curling up into a tighter ball. “Kazu said he’s sleeping with me tonight!” 

He stuck his tongue out in Tsuzuru’s direction. 

Tsuzuru Minagi pressed the bridge of his nose. “Lord… Misumi, if you want to help out in the labs, fine. Just don’t touch anything.” 

“Okay!” 

Kazunari opened his mouth to complain once more before he paused. He took a sniff of the air. “Tsuzuroon… why do you smell like wet dog?” 

Tsuzuru went completely red. “That damned Director…”

* * *

Her magic hadn’t been able to do much. After her success with treating Banri’s fractured rib, Izumi had hoped her magic had been getting better but no. It was probably because the kid was blessed and took to healing magic like cats took to cardboard boxes. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

Yuki looked into the mirror where a thin layer of scar tissue blanketed over the gash. The bruising had disappeared enough but the scar… 

“Is it going to be there forever?” he asked quietly. 

“There are plenty of things we can do to try and make sure it isn’t.” 

Yuki nodded sadly. “Okay.” 

Izumi hesitated before holding out her hand. He placed his empty one in it, electing to keep looking at his reflection in sad acceptance. 

“Do you want to talk about how you’re feeling?” Izumi asked. 

“No, not really.” Yuki let his eyelids flutter shut. “It… I knew. All mythics know. It’s not like this is so out of the blue and I’m only just now realizing that the world is _garbage_. And that I’m part of the lowest rung. I’ve known since I was born and my mother apologized for giving me life.” 

A single tear made it’s way down his cheek. 

He wiped it away with the back of his hand and sighed. “It doesn’t feel good to be reminded of all that like this.” 

“Will your parents know if you skip school tomorrow?” Izumi asked suddenly. 

“No. Saint Flora’s doesn’t do missed attendance reports until grades go out.” 

Izumi nodded. “I’m calling all of the kids in sick tomorrow. Would you like to skip just for tomorrow and stay here, Yuki?” 

The brownie opened his eyes to look her in the eyes. His chin crinkled. 

“Yes, please,” he whispered with a voice that wavered. “Thank you.”

* * *

“Poor kid,” Izumi said, sighing heavily. 

She’d just dropped Yuki off at Muku’s dorm. 

“Thank you, Director,” the student had whispered to her. “I’ll take care of him for tonight." 

Citron handed her a cup of something warm. Milk. “Rest easy, Director.” 

She shook her head. “No time, I’m afraid. We have to head back out, I still don’t know where Omi is. I hope you’re willing to come with me?” 

The Seer chuckled and put a hand on her back. He led her to the entryway. “Would you introduce me to this new one?” 

Fido’s head popped up when she neared. His tail wagged furiously, thumping on the floor. 

“His name is Fido,” she said. Just looking at him lifted her heavy heart. “Found him and a giant bird in one of the storage containers. I suppose poachers use export facilities to keep a lot of their… catches. We should keep an eye on them every now and then to make sure tonight doesn’t repeat itself.” 

“Fido,” Citron repeated with a small chuckle. He shook his head. “Director, I am very fond of your… vigor.” 

“Thank you?” 

“Omi is fine,” he said pleasantly. 

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to go out looking for him, aren’t you?” 

The Seer shook his head. “No, I would not lie to you. Omi is okay, I swear on it.” 

Izumi hesitated. 

“Director, you are tired,” he urged. “It is very late. All of us should go to sleep.” 

“Omi’s okay?” Izumi asked. “Really? Who found him?” 

Citron’s lips slanted. “I wonder who indeed… He is _fine_. And I foresee that he will prove it in the morning.” 

Izumi had to admit that her body felt like a bag of bricks. If Citron was willing to promise Omi’s wellbeing, then she would honestly love to just hit the bed and never move again. 

“I’m warning you, Seer, if you’re lying about this, I’ll throw you out on the streets,” she warned. 

Citron gave her a light pat on the head like she was a child. “I know so. I will go to peep, Director. Goodnight.” 

With that final mysterious statement, he slipped away and went humming to his room. 

Izumi leaned down to Fido. “You wanna go to bed with me, boy?” 

The dog let out another high-pitched keen. 

“C’mon, let’s go get that terrible thing off your face,” she whispered. 

Fido padded after her as she slipped into the kitchen for a knife. 

With one gently slice, the large muzzle plopped onto the floor. Fido instantly jumped up to give her a wild lick all over her face. 

“Down! Down, boy!” Izumi said with a laugh. 

Fido plopped onto the floor, nearly shaking the whole dorm, and thrust its neck out. A leather collar with a big silver pendant showed through its fur. 

“You want it off?” Izumi asked. 

Fido gave a big but gentle _woof_. A _bork_. 

“Right, right. You got it, mister. But only because you are so gosh darn adorable and I love you to pieces.” She crouched down and cut the collar off. 

Fido rolled over, back onto its feet, and panted with its tongue out. 

She’d always, always wanted a dog. As Izumi crept under her blanket and Fido jumped on top of her, nearly breaking the frame, she remembered a long time ago when she’d asked her dad for a pet. And he had told her no. 

Izumi buried her face into Fido’s fur and let herself go to sleep.

* * *

Izumi’s phone alarm went off. 

She slapped it back to snooze out of reflex and slowly rolled over to burry her face in Fido’s fur once more. 

…Hold on. That didn’t feel like fur. 

Her eyes shot open. She was pressed face first into someone’s bare chest. 

Izumi leaned back and stared up at Omi. His own eyes fluttered open at her shifting and locked onto hers. 

The two of them stared at each other for a split second before, in unison, turning away to look instead at the ceiling. An uncomfortable silence stretched. 

“Omi,” Izumi began after the tenseness was becoming too much to bear. “Are you a werewolf.” 

Omi Fushimi cleared his throat awkwardly. “I—yes. Yes, I am.” 

“Hm. And you were Fido?” 

“…Yes.” 

“I see.” 

More silence. Izumi actually considered launching out of her bed, screaming bloody murder. That’s what people were usually supposed to do when someone was in bed with them despite not having been invited, right? Maybe the Coven was lowering her standards though because all she could think was, “ _Man, I am way too tired to do that_.” 

So she settled on letting her eyes slide shut and asking some more questions. 

“Does anybody know you’re actually a werewolf and not a Hunter?” 

“Mister Furuichi does. Nobody else on the council. Or on the police force.” He answered dutifully, like the questions were coming from a military commander. 

“I’m guessing you weren’t fully coherent when you were licking my face last night then?” 

“No, ma’am. I blame the collar. Usually I’m much more in control. Silver has a bad affect on werewolves." 

“Hm," Izumi repeated and finally asked the last, dreaded question. “Omi, answer me honestly. Are you wearing pants right now?” 

“…No. I’m afraid the transformation does not include pants.” 

“Ah. I was afraid of that.” She sighed deeply. “Please get out from my covers and go put on some pants. We're going to have a very in depth conversation about this... But I'd really prefer you to wear clothes.” 

“Yes, Miss Tachibana.” 

“Call me Director,” Izumi said on reflex. 

Omi crept out of bed and she respectfully closed her eyes. “Yes, Director." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bold of you to think I was going to make a magic AU and not include werewolves. Using it/its pronouns for Fido was so difficult since I wouldn't usually use those pronouns for dogs.
> 
> Also, I actually spent a lot of time thinking whether it was ethical or not to have Yuki beat the shit out of his kidnapper. I mean, he's 14... So I opened up the debate in a groupchat of my non-a3 friends. "Would you let a 14 year old beat the person who kidnapped him with intent to harm."
> 
> The answer was, as you guessed, a unanimous and resolute "yes" so there you go.
> 
> On a final note... where is Fox Face?
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	20. Monica Eats a Fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a shorter chapter than usual but I still hope you enjoy! (we reached 300 kudos..... aauuuugh i'm overwhelmed by that)

Izumi crossed her legs.

Omi refused to look her in the eyes.

The clock on the wall ticked at every passing second. As clocks are wont to do.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Izumi said.

Misumi stuck his head inside and gave her a big smile. “Good morning, Director! Monica told me she wanted fish for breakfast. Can I have money to buy her some at the grocery store?”

Izumi raised an eyebrow. “Mmmmmmmonica being…?”

“Ahaha! You know,  the—" Misumi flapped his hands and made a pecking motion.

Oh, the giant bird in the yard. Incredible how she’d actually managed to forget about it for a second.

“Did you name the bird, Misumi?” she asked.

“Nope! She told me her name herself.” He puffed his chest out proudly. “I couldn't really follow what Kazu and Tsuzu were doing in the lab… they make such serious faces. And I think Tsuzuru started crying at some point, which made me feel sad. So I went out to the courtyard to hang out with her and we became really good friends last night!”

The magical bird could talk. Sure. Izumi patted her pajama pockets but of course couldn’t find a wallet. They were her pajamas after all.

“Go into my bedroom, you should find my wallet in my purse,” she said. “Take the whole thing, just make sure to bring back any change. And nothing too expensive!”

Misumi saluted. “Okaaaay! …Omi, are you in trouble?”

The werewolf hesitated and cautioned a quick glance at Izumi. “I’m not sure, Misumi. Am I, Director?”

She set her lips and didn’t respond. Misumi made a soft “oof” noise and quickly excused himself, shutting the door behind him.

And thus, the clock continued ticking. And they sat in silence.

Omi broke the silence first when he finally became too uncomfortable to continue bearing the brutality of Izumi Tachibana’s _look_. “Director, please let me apologize for my shameful display last night. I promise you, I was not fully in control and I did not do anything with the intent of… making a fool out of either of us.”

Izumi leaned back and laced her fingers together. Placed them comfortable on one knee. She cocked her head to the side to just continue staring at Omi, expression entirely unreadable.

“Director,” Omi tried again, this time with a hint of desperation. “I swear to you—"

“I was really looking forward to having a pet dog for the first time in my life,” she said, interrupting him. Izumi popped her lips a few times. “You can laugh at me if you want to since I’ll admit I was being a bit silly. I already had a few ideas in mind. I was gonna get us matching Best Friends charms. One for my bracelet, one for Fido's collar. I thought we would take hikes together when I had a day off.”

Despite having gotten permission to laugh at her, Omi felt very strangely that he would face a punishment if he did. So he instead bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Director. If, uh, if you’d like, I could go on a hike with you still.”

Izumi shook her head very slowly. “It’s not the same, Omi. It is not the same.”

Omi winced.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Director?” Sakuya’s voice called. “Um… Sakyo’s here to see you.”

Truly never had the bottom of Omi’s stomach completely disappeared before. It completely forwent dropping to the floor and instead opted to cease existing.

“Good, he came faster than I expected,” Izumi said simply and rose from her seat.

Omi honestly felt a tad betrayed. “You called him here?”

“I figured this was the line where I had to get him involved,” she said without even a hint of remorse. “Come in.”

Sakyo Furuichi opened the door the way a hurricane would and promptly slammed it shut into Sakuya’s stunned face. 

“FUSHIMI,” he bellowed with the force of a genuine avalanche.

The werewolf groaned.

“WHERE have you BEEN!” Sakyo thundered, face rife with fury. “Do you have any idea the amount of red tape Reni Kamikizaka has forced on the department since your disappearance in the middle of _guarding the goddamned Main Hall?!_ He’s completely ceased all funding to the force while forcing more than half of my men to work overtime! SO PRAY TELL ME, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN.”

“He was kidnapped by poachers,” Izumi said smoothly, sliding a step to the left to stand in-between the two of them. “Odd, isn’t it, Sakyo? Alarming that they’re going after Hunters now. Who would have ever thought.”

She tapped her foot as Sakyo Furuichi blanched like spinach in boiling water.

“Yes…” he said very slowly and carefully. “I suppose. I suppose that is something we will have to, er, keep an eye on.”

“She knows, Mister Furuichi,” Omi muttered.

Sakyo took his glasses off and pressed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, a pained crease appearing in his brow. “Fushimi, you…”

“It wasn’t Omi’s fault,” Izumi said with a shrug, not looking at the werewolf sitting behind her. “Silver, wasn’t it? Physical contact with the metal for prolonged amounts of time reverts werewolves to their animal state.”

“And you tracked him down how?” Sakyo asked. “He’d been gone for days. We had no leads—"

Izumi suddenly realized that this was a fantastic scapegoat opportunity. “Long story. Yuki disappeared—“

Sakyo went aghast. “ _Tailor?_ Blazes. Why are my men affiliated with you so heavily?”

“Why are _you_ hiring _fourteen year old boys_ to stitch together wounds?” Izumi snarled, jabbing her finger into Sakyo’s chest.

“Would you rather nobody in his family find work at all?” Sakyo snapped back. “I am being realistic, Miss Tachibana.”

Izumi clapped her hands over her ears. “Stop calling me that! You know I hate it!"

“Director Tachibana!” Sakyo finally spat out in frustration, upper lip curled. “If you desire to act like a little brat, then I’ll treat you like one! Congratulations. How I have chosen to run the underground police force for the past decade is none of your business. I can’t help but get the feeling that half of the problems I’ve faced in the past two months is directly linked to this Coven. Am _I_ the fool for having given you the benefit of the doubt and not reporting to the Mayor the truth?”

“No,” Izumi said and held her chin high. “You’re a smart investor. Because _now_ I’m obligated to not tell Reni that you’ve been lying on forms about who your workers are. And I’m hoping the new Mutually Assured Destruction gist we’ve got going on will help us work together.”

Sakyo froze. He placed his glasses back on his face and cleared his throat.

“I will be very honest. When I entered this room, I did not expect our conversation to go in this direction.” Sakyo let out a weary sigh and it was only then Izumi fully saw just how bloodshot the man’s eyes were behind those frames. How long had it been since he’d slept? “Continue with your original story, please.”

“Yuki was caught,” she said honestly. “Muku was… they’re friends now, by the way, apparently they go to the same school. Muku was worried and eventually, we pieced together enough clues to track down where he was. I picked up Omi along the way of the search when he was stuck as a wolf. Thought it would be appropriate to get you involved when we found out he worked for you.”

Sakyo actually went paler somehow. “Tailor was poached?”

“He’s safe, he should still be sleeping in Muku’s room,” she said, jerking her chin in the general direction. “It’s why I called you last night.”

A lesser man would have probably started crying. Sakyo Furuichi simply shuddered. “I apologize. Mayor Reni has been very insistent on lecturing me nonstop for the past few days. His demand for my full attention meant I had very little access to communication until this morning.”

Izumi nodded once. “I can get that. But Omi is safe now and I’m the only one who knows he’s a werewolf.” She paused. “Actually, maybe Itaru and Citron know as well… the point is, I’m not going to say anything since you’ve been close-lipped about our little demon situation. Debt repaid, right?”

Sakyo bowed his head. “Thank you, Director Tachibana.”

“I’m returning Omi to you,” she said and finally rested a warning palm on Omi’s shoulder. _You know what to keep quiet about_. “And don’t you dare be harsh on him. He’s been through a really rough situation and he’s been punished enough.”

Sakyo clicked his tongue. “So be it. But the mayor will have the last word.”

“I want you to stand up for him if it gets to that point,” Izumi said sharply.

Sakyo hesitated for only a moment. “I will do my absolute best. Come, Fushimi. The Mayor will want a full debrief of the situation, I’m sure. Then I can _finally_ get the paychecks sent out properly before we find them all revolting .”

The head of police turned and started walking to the door. Omi, however, hesitated.

Sakyo raised an eyebrow. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

"With all due respect, sir," Omi said slowly as a strange look settled over his face. "I'm afraid I do not... feel comfortable leaving this area."

He cast a subtle glance towards Izumi who seemed none the wiser. Sakyo looked perplexed by this and then his expression soured.

"You didn't," he hissed at Izumi. He stomped a few steps closer. “Please, tell me that you didn’t."

"What? What did I not do?" she asked.

Sakyo leaned closer to her, eyebrows drawn. "Did you rub his tummy?"

"EXCUSE ME?"

"When he was in wolf form. Did you or did you not rub his stomach since rescuing him?"

"SIR!" Omi snapped, cheeks flushing red. “Stop!”

Izumi gaped but then made a face. “So what if I did! He’s a fucking cute dog!”

“DOG?” Sakyo yelled. “A wolf! A _wolf_ , Director Tachibana! What in the world is wrong with you?!”

“FIDO WAS MY GODDAMNED BEST FRIEND FOR THE FEW HOURS I KNEW HIM,” she returned as tears welled in her eyes. “AND YOU KNOW, I FUCKING MISS HIM, SAKYO. LET ME GRIEVE.” She shook her head. “What’s this about the tummy wubs?”

Omi buried his face in his palms. “Oh my God. Sir, please just shoot me.”

“When a werewolf exposes his stomach to somebody and they _rub it_ ,” Sakyo began poisonously, casting a very disappointed look in Omi’s way, “the werewolf bonds with them. An instinctual trust and protective instinct. Deplorable.”

Omi groaned louder. “Sir, I am _begging you to stop talking_.”

Izumi stared at the werewolf, eyebrows raised. “Is this true?”

No one in the room spoke for a second.

“Fushimi,” Sakyo barked louder. “We are leaving.”

“I don’t _want_ to,” he insisted in a very out-of-character whine. He rested his cheek against Izumi’s hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle rub. “Sir, I’ve told you how it can be. I belong by her side now.”

To the surprise of absolutely everybody, Sakyo slapped Omi across his face so firmly, a crisp _SMACK_ echoed in the office.

A yelp tore out of Izumi's mouth. "Sakyo, what the hell!"

“Get a goddamn grip on yourself, mongrel,” Sakyo commanded with a disgusted tilt in his tone.

Omi shook his head firmly. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”

“You guys are so weird,” Izumi whispered to herself more than anyone else in the room.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Director,” Omi said bravely as he finally got to his feet. “Perhaps soon in the future I shall have the luck to see you once more.”

Izumi only stood there and stared. She didn't really understand how the underground police worked but this seemed way too excessive?

Sakyo gave Omi a pointed look and jabbed a finger in the direction of the doorway. Omi walked forward with a set jaw but then froze right as he was about to cross the threshold. His face twisted into one of a miserable kicked puppy's.

“Don’t make me do this, Mister Furuichi,” Omi pleaded.

“WALK, FUSHIMI.”

Omi bared his teeth and growled, a deep and threatening rumble in his throat. Sakyo’s eyebrows shot up in shock.

Another tense moment of silence filled the room like molasses. Omi’s face shattered into an expression of horror and shame.

“I’m so—! I’m so sorry!” he whispered. “Sir, I’ve tried to explain it before but it’s truly so difficult to describe in its entirety what…” He struggled a bit to find the word. “What _instinct_ forces werewolves do. You do not understand how powerful a belly rub in a moment of vulnerability changes our psyche.”

Sakyo took his glasses off again and pressed two fingers between his eyes like a headache was being stubborn. “Fushimi, how much trouble are you planning on causing those around you?”

Izumi felt guilt stir in her abdomen. All of Omi’s problems did stem from one particular event. Banri’s kidnapping. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for it all.

“He can stay,” she piped up. “If he really can’t leave, then… Omi can stay here."

The two men glanced at her and she could only offer another, weaker, shrug. “Just saying. Maybe that would be the best after all, yeah? Have someone working for Sakyo on the Coven grounds twenty-four seven. It should add some credibility to our management.”

Sakyo hesitated. “Are you sure, Director Tachibana?”

“Never been surer!” Izumi said brightly. “All of the kids are already so fond of Omi. And Tsuzuru might think of this as an early Christmas. If Omi doesn’t want to leave, I can’t think of a reason to force him to.”

“Reni is going to want to talk to him.”

“Then I’ll go with him to the Council if it’s necessary to,” she said.

Sakyo let out a gusty sigh. “If there is no simpler solution, then I’m once again in your debt, Director Tachibana. I’m sorry for all the trouble my subordinates have put you through.”

“No, no!” Seriously. There was so much going on that Sakyo didn’t know about and it was killing her. 

“Then I suppose I should be taking my leave on my own now,” he said with another disapproving look shot to Omi.

Izumi suddenly had a thought. “Actually, um, Sakyo. If you have some time—I mean, I’m guessing you know a lot about mythics. More than I do?”

Sakyo let out an odd strangled noise. “I suppose I am somewhat knowledgeable on the topic. Is there something I can help you with?”

“We have this _bird_ in the backyard…"

* * *

Izumi waved a hand towards Monica.

“Do you have any idea what that thing is?” Izumi asked. “I was planning on going through the encyclopedias but I’ve never seen that thing in my life. And neither has Itaru or Tsuzuru."

Sakyo covered his mouth with a gloved hand and didn’t say anything.

“What? _What?_ Is it a super rare magical creature?” she pressed.

Sakyo cleared his throat. He blinked a few times. “Director. That is _not_ a magical creature.”

Izumi paused as a strange look overcame her face. “No, that can’t be right. Misumi was talking to her earlier, he said her name was Monica."

“That is an African Shoebill Stork.”

“A… Come again?”

“An African Shoebill Stork,” Sakyo repeated very flatly. “An incredibly endangered species native to Africa. You found this specimen with Fushimi, you said? I’d assume the poachers collect animals as well because that is _not_ a mythic to any extent.”

She turned on her heel slowly to stare at Monica.

Monica paid them no mind as she continued to strut around the yard. She leaned down to peck lazily at one of Banri's new potato seedlings. A hand suddenly appeared over the stone wall and Misumi proudly hauled himself over it with grace. In the other hand, he held a black plastic bag. 

“Ah! Hi, Sakyo!” he cheered. “Did you bring cookies?”

Sakyo’s upper lip curled with distaste again. “Misumi.”

“Misumi, didn’t you tell me Monica spoke to you earlier?” Izumi asked.

Misumi just laughed loudly and reached into his pocket to take out her wallet. He tossed it over to the Director and then took out an entire catfish carcass from the bag. 

“Breakfast time, Monica!” Misumi said with a big smile as he dangled the fish in front of her.

Her massive, powerful beak snapped the fish from his hand and narrowly missed his precious fingers. Misumi didn't flinch at the rapid movement even though Izumi herself had to choke back a scream. Monica blinked as she held the fish in her mouth. Then she tilted her head back and swallowed it in one gulp.

The Shoebill Stork bobbed its a head a few times. Almost as though saying, thank you for the meal. Then the regal bird turned and simply resumed the boring pace around the backyard. 

“…Is he really talking to the bird?” Omi asked.

Neither Sakyo or Izumi could answer him. All three of them watched as Misumi walked beside Monica, chatting candidly in a very one-sided conversation.

Izumi turned and began walking back for the dorms. “Thanks for coming, Sakyo. Would you like some coffee to go?”

“That would be lovely, Director Tachibana.”

And that was that.

Some things were just not to be questioned any more than absolutely necessary.

* * *

“Good morning,” Tsuzuru said with a yawn as he left the lab. He rubbed his eyes. “Kazunari’s gonna be sleeping in, I hope—" 

He froze as he caught sight of the man wearing an apron in the kitchen. Omi turned with a kind smile on his face, frying pan in his hand with eggs and sausages. 

“Good morning to you as well,” Omi said warmly. “Would you like juice or milk with breakfast?” 

Tsuzuru stared and then pinched his arm until tears welled up in his eyes. Not a dream. 

“When did you get here?” Tsuzuru asked softly as he rubbed the small self-inflicted welt. “And… _why_ are you here?” 

Omi’s smile turned tight. “There were a few complications. It looks like I’m going to have to extend my stay in the Coven longer than any of us thought I would." 

“You’re staying?” Tsuzuru demanded. “You’re going to keep cooking for us?"

Omi chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “It seems so, yes. I hope you’ll continue to treat me well, Tsuzuru.”

Tsuzuru looked away and let his eyes slide shut, too overwhelmed to even speak.

“Mom was right,” he murmured under his breath. “Jesus _does_ listen when you pray.”

And with that, he closed the distance between the two of them with a few more paces. Tsuzuru flung his arms around Omi to hug him tight and promptly burst into grateful sobs against his chest.

* * *

Muku woke up first.

He slowly emerged from the murkiness of dream and let his eyes in the real world crack open. His body still felt sore and heavy from overexerting itself last night. He’d slept like a rock; the one good side effect from having emotionally exhausted oneself. A soft, rhythmic breathing beside him reminded Muku that Yuki was in bed with him.

Muku rolled over onto his side to check on his friend.

Yuki’s eyes were terribly swollen but not without reason. After the Director had dropped him off in Muku’s dorm, Yuki had lied down on his side of the bed to bawl into a pillow until he couldn’t squeeze another tear out. Then he’d gone to sleep. And Muku—Muku had just sat beside him, rubbing his shoulder to let him know he was there and that Yuki would be safe.

The tear in his temple was dark and scarred over. Muku hoped Yuki wouldn’t be upset with it.

Yuki had a soft, pink aura, Muku had realized a few days ago when they’d gotten lunch together again. It blended well with his green hair, like strawberry and lime sorbet. Yuki’s aura was gentle too. If Tenma’s aura flickered and blazed like fire, Yuki’s was fluffy like wool. But last night had been the first time he’d ever seen an aura change.

Red. Angry, angry red. Jagged like broken glass.

He’d have to ask Citron about that later.

“Stop looking at me,” Yuki muttered, eyes still shut.

Muku “eep”ed and sat up. “Sorry! I thought you were sleeping—but I didn’t wanna look at you in a creepy way or anything like that! I promise I’m not a stalker, I just wanted to check in on you but you don’t need a broken-pencil-stub person like me to check in on you, right?”

“Shut up, Muku,” Yuki said with a sigh. He struggled to sit up, eyes still shut but perhaps because they were just _that_ swollen. He rubbed them and made a pained face. “Do you know what time it is?”

“…I think it’s just about eleven.”

Yuki groaned. “I slept in too much. No wonder I feel like garbage.”

“You had a rough night, I think you can let yourself sleep in a little,” Muku said quietly.

Yuki swung his legs off the bed and stood up, stretching. “My back hurts. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to sleep with the glamour on.”

He waved his hand and shrank back down.

“Yuki?” Muku questioned, crawling forward on his hands to peer over the edge of the bed. “It’s alright if you wanna sleep in a bit more. I can go get you breakfast and you can just eat in here."

“No, I have a lot to get done today,” the brownie said, dismissing the proposal without thought.

Muku’s concern spiked. “Y-Yuki, you really shouldn’t do anything too demanding! You need to relax, you went through a really rough—“

“Why do you think I cried so hard, dummy?” Yuki said scornfully like Muku was deliberately being slow on the uptake. “Of course it was a terrible night. But I beat up one of the guys who hurt me. Closure. Then I cried. Release of negative emotion, catharsis. Then I thought about what I wanted to do, slept, and now I’m going to _do_ those things. Life moves on, there’s no point in just wallowing in my own misery when I can start making changes instead.”

Muku stared at his friend in wonder.

“You’re really strong, Yuki,” he murmured.

“Hm. You think so?” Yuki inspected his cuticles but the tips of his ears went a little red. “Well, thanks for saying so. And—thanks for last night, I guess. Letting me sleepover.”

Muku smiled sadly and drew his knees closer, hugging them to his chest. “You know, I’ve always been really weak. I wish I was more like you.”

“You wish you were a brownie looked down on by all of magic society and treated like a commodity than a living being?” he deadpanned.

“N-No! No, nothing like that! Sorry if I offended you, I just—"

Yuki snorted and flicked a finger. A pillow rose from the bed to lightly smack Muku on his head. “You’re so easy to wind up. I’m kidding.”

“I wish I was strong and cool like you are,” Muku said, carefully choosing his words. He swallowed dryly. “When I started seeing things, and, um, I went to Ju-chan’s f-funeral. Things just got really bad for me. I just thought I was going to be stuck seeing things and being... crazy for the rest of my life. I wish I could have been more like you. But I was just stupid, and cowardly, and totally the most pathetic person in the world…”

“Why do you do that?” Yuki asked sharply.

“Huh? What?”

Yuki flicked a finger and smacked Muku over his head with the pillow again. “Why do you hate yourself so loudly all the time. You need to stop it, it’s not good for you.”

Muku frowned. “I don’t hate myself.”

“Are you sure? Because it really sounds like you do.” Yuki raised his chin and stared up at the boy on the bed like he was planning on challenging God himself. “I think you have this really ugly habit of saying the worst things possible about yourself. Maybe you think that if you’re meanest to yourself, no one else will be able to hurt you as badly, but that’s stupid.”

Muku didn’t say anything.

“There are always going to be people out there willing to shit on you for being yourself,” Yuki bit out, making his way towards the bedroom door. He clapped his hands and the doorknob twisted. “There aren’t always going to be people willing to defend you though so you’re going to have to learn to be kinder to yourself. See you, Muku.”

“W-Wait for me!” Muku said, scrambling out of his covers. He followed after the foot-tall boy. “What plans do you have today?”

Yuki didn’t answer. He stuck his nose into the air and steeled his jaw instead. 

“Where’s the Director’s office?” he asked.

“Right down the hall. That door.”

“Hm.” Yuki didn’t bother knocking. He clapped his hands again to open the door.

Izumi dropped the papers in her hands. “Yuki, you’re awake! Omi’s got some food in the kitchen if you think you can stomach it.”

“Fushimi’s alright?”

“Just dandy. He’ll be staying with us for the foreseeable future.”

Yuki nodded once. “Muku, table.”

Muku immediately stooped down and presented his palm for Yuki to step on. He lifted the brownie into the air and placed him onto the table right in front of Izumi. She politely offered him a stapler to sit on, which he did.

“I want to stay here too,” Yuki requested.

Izumi raised an eyebrow. “Ah. Do you?”

“I want to become a student in the Coven.”

Izumi laced her fingers together and smiled down at him. “Hmm. But you’re not a magician.”

“So?” he spat out. “You and I both know I’m capable of enough. If you really give a shit about teaching magic, not pandering to the Council and enforce stereotypes, then—"

Izumi chuckled and raised her palm to stop him in his tracks. “I’m kidding. Maybe if you’d asked me two months ago, I would have said no or thought about it, but the Coven’s proved itself to be a bit untraditional already. Might as well, right? The new era of magic sounds like it can leave behind arbitrary standards.”

Yuki squinted, scanning the DIrector’s face for even a hint of mockery. “Are you serious?”

“Yep. It sounds interesting! Who knows, maybe Sakuya or Banri have a shot at learning brownie magic as well.” She held out a finger for him to shake. “Obviously, you’re going to need to have your parents sign a few forms. And it’ll take a bit of talking between you and I to figure out your lesson plans.”

“I want to learn how to be a Hunter,” Yuki said immediately.

Izumi flinched back like the words had caught her off guard.

“You… want to learn how to be a Hunter,” Izumi repeated.

“I’m not _stupid_ ,” he said bitterly. “I know I’m not… going to be able to be a Hunter exactly. But I want to learn how to fight. I want to learn how to defend myself when total assholes decide to come after me or anybody else I care about.”

Yuki’s tiny hands curled into fists.

He’d been able to do nothing last night. All he’d done was run away and even _then_ he’d failed at that.

Not anymore.

Izumi took in a slow breath through her nose but offered a finger again.

“We’ll have to see what we can do,” she said, less buoyantly than before. “Welcome to the Coven, Yuki.”

Yuki reached forward and shook her finger.

“Another thing,” the brownie said as he stood up. “I know you said he’s the Hunter teacher here but I refuse to learn from Sumeragi.”

“You’ll have to,” Izumi said. She’d have to shut this weird rivalry with Tenma Yuki seemed to hold in his heart as soon as possible. “There’s no other Hunter on board at the moment good enough to teach.”

Yuki crossed his arms and the look he gave her would have had anybody else freezing up.

“I want to learn how to fight from Banri,” Yuki announced.

“What?” Muku cried.

Izumi sat back in her chair and touched her fingertips together.

An interesting proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love fanfiction. Specifically because in an original work, I would have written the "werewolf bonds to the person who rubs his belly in wolf form" bit and deleted it because it was too self indulgent. But since this is a fic for A3, I went WOOOO LET'S DO IT.
> 
> Also, sorry for everybody in the last chapter who was like "omg is the bird someone from winter troupe" ( ^ ^ ; )
> 
> PLEASE GOOGLE AFRICAN SHOEBILL STORK, THEY LOOK SO COOL
> 
> Short chapter, like I said, but expect a much longer one in 2-3 days! Since we have a few exciting plot points out of the way, we can relax and go back to world building and Not Horrible Things, hooray. Well, until the next horrible thing happens, I guess, but such is plot. Thank you for reading and good luck on the etude


	21. The Three Laws of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sobs in increased work hours. Not me pumping out 100k words last month but struggling to pop out 50k this month, slaps my knee. anyways, back to the grind!
> 
> edit: gonna add a content warning actually. That dead body in Tsuzuru's lab is mentioned again, Not in detail but it's there.

“Did you get what I asked?” Izumi asked as she opened the door. 

Banri rolled his eyes. He reached into his backpack and took out a small stack of papers. “Yeah, yeah. Picked up the schoolwork for Sakuya and Masumi.” 

She grinned, opening the door wider to let him inside. “Thank you! And thank you for going to classes as well. I know you were up just as late last night as the others but I can’t call you out of classes until you tell your parents and they sign me the right to do so.” 

Banri cringed as he slipped off his shoes. He would tell his Accountant Dad and his Actuary Mom about magic when pigs flew. Actually, maybe not even then, since flying pigs weren’t so out of the realm of possibility anymore. He never knew what to expect here. 

“How are the potatoes doing?” he asked, dropping his backpack on the floor. 

“I looked it up online and it botanically should to be impossible for them to be sprouting already, but they are.” She shook her head. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’re good at everything you do.” 

“Don't sound so charmed. The luck fucking _sucks_.” 

Izumi sighed and held out her hand. Banri at this point knew to keep loose change in his pockets to pay the fine throughout the day. 

“You wanna know what being blessed is like?” Banri asked, letting a rare bit of frustration pass over his features. “Let me show you. Where’s the kitchen, you got eggs?” 

“Uh, let me check.”

The two made their way to the empty kitchen. Izumi rummaged through the bottom shelf and took out the carton of eggs, making note to buy more the next time she ran for groceries.

Banri grabbed the three eggs inside and then a bowl from the sink. He cracked the first egg into the bowl and presented the reaped spoils for Izumi to witness. 

She blinked at the twin yolks nestled within the slimy white. “Uh…?” 

Banri cracked the next egg. Presented it once more. Another twin yolk was within. Banri cracked the last egg. Six yolks, all in pairs, floated within the sea of whites. 

“That is statistically _incredible_ ,” she could only reply at last. 

“I know,” he snapped, before taking up a fork to beat them into a smooth yellow liquid. “You mind if I make an omelette? I’m starving.” 

What was it with high school boys and eating enough for a small village, Izumi wondered. At her nod, he reached for a frying pan in one of the cabinets and started the stove. 

“I always thought my life was just on Super Ultra Easy mode or something. It feels better knowing that there’s a _reason_ for why I’m good at anything I try.” Banri went through the fridge and took out an onion and a bell pepper. He diced them both to small pieces and swept them into the pan as well. 

Izumi rolled her eyes as she slid into a chair at the table. “You’re exaggerating. There’s no way you’re good at _everything_.” 

Banri snorted but didn’t reply. A few quiet moments passed where the only sound was sizzling. He slid his omelette onto a plate and showed it to her. 

“How’s it?” he asked. 

Izumi squinted. “It looks great. Why do you ask?” 

Banri sneered down at the eggs like they personally had ruined every purpose in life he could have had. “I’ve never made an omelette before in my life. This was my first shot.” 

“...I don’t believe you.” She pushed the plate away. “No. I absolutely, completely do _not_ believe you.” 

“Do you want me to try it blindfolded?” he asked bitterly. “There’s no point. The omelette is going to turn out perfect, maybe even better than this one. I’m good at _anything_ I try.” 

He wolfed the omelette down in record time and tossed the plate into the sink as though he didn’t care if it broke or not. The plate, of course, did not break. 

“Whatever. That's enough personal angst for today. What’s the plan?” 

“You remember Yuki from last night?” Izumi asked, trying not to dwell longer on the whole “ _I never made an omelette before but here’s my first shot at it and it’s perfect_ ” thing. “He wants to know if you’d be willing to teach him self-defense.” 

Banri raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, I say self-defense,” she amended. "Yuki said he wanted to know how to fight but I’d rather you not teach how to throw the first punch. I'd much rather prefer 'how to keep safe if it comes to it.'” 

Banri gave a rude little snort. “Sometimes keeping safe means throwing the first punch. Just saying.” 

“Please don’t recruit Yuki as a delinquent. Please. He’s such a nice boy.” 

“Rurikawa is not _nice_ , he’s fourteen,” Banri said flatly. “There are no such things as nice fourteen year olds.” 

“Muku.” 

Banri scoffed. “That kid said 'fuck you' to my face. And I’m not gonna pay for that because I’m directly quoting him.” 

Izumi’s jaw dropped. She was just about to voice her doubt on the manner but then instead asked, “Did you deserve it?” 

“Yeah, but whatever.” 

She massaged her temples. “Banri… Listen, not the point. Would you be willing to help out?” 

“That’s going to be two favors you owe me now,” he informed her, holding up a peace sign. “A favor for the break-in and a favor for teaching a brat how to avoid getting beaten up at recess. That's a lot of black magic you're gonna have to teach me.” 

Izumi didn’t even bother batting her eyelashes and asking if Banri would be willing to do it from the goodness in his heart. She didn’t want to make any nasty accusations but there was a voice in her head that told her Banri would not be the most altruistic person in her life.

“Why do you care so much about black magic?” she asked tiredly.

Banri sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Because I want to bring Hyodo back to life. And apparently, necromancy is a big no-no for you stick-in-the-muds.” 

Izumi’s spine locked in a near-painful cringe. “To _punch_ him, if I remember correctly.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Banri,” she began slowly. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. The necromancy you attempted earlier this month… that’s as far as necromancy goes. You’re not going to be able to bring Juza’s soul back to the realm of living, no matter how hard you try. There’s no such spell.” 

Banri sat up in his chair. “I’m calling bulls… Bull. What do you mean there’s no such spell? It’s _magic_ , how many rules could you have for it?” 

“Besides Council law, you mean?” Izumi asked. 

“You had me break into their Main Hall less than a week ago. I think I already have the gist of what you feel about ‘em and whatever laws they might make.” 

Izumi laughed softly and held up three fingers. “In magic, there are three unbreakable laws. Think of them as equivalent to the laws of motion in physics, okay? Life, Death, and Love. Magic cannot interfere with these three things.” 

“…Explain?” 

“Right, of course. Magic cannot create Life. Kazunari has a Rune sequence that can make things fly and move and imitate life for a short amount of time but Life is one of those things that can’t be replicated in its entirety. You can make things move but you _cannot_ create Souls outside of doing the woohoo.” She waved her hand vaguely. “Obviously, all of the magic that tried to explore Life was banned for good reason. Higher level alchemy, higher level transfiguration, higher level summoning… So there’s not too much information on the theory. We do know that all living things having souls."

"All living things?"

She hesitated. "Plants don’t have souls. Unless there are dryads or nymphs that have claimed the plant as their own but that’s a technicality." 

Banri mulled that over for a bit. He slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth in his chair. “You mean sentience. Sentient beings have souls. Or souls are what give sentience, then?” 

“Almost. Some animals don’t have souls either."

“Like?” 

Izumi clicked her tongue. “Mosquitoes.” 

“Oh, I fuckin' hate mosquitoes.” 

She held out her hand. Banri handed her another coin without pause. They were falling into quite a nice pattern.

“You and just about every other person. And for good reason. Mosquitos aren’t just parasites or blood suckers, they literally do not have souls.” Izumi laughed suddenly. “But some bugs do. Like fruit flies!"

Banri let that information sink in. He filed it away for later rumination and then gestured for the High Priestess to continue. 

Izumi’s face went darker. “Death. Specifically, there’s no magic that can control Death either. There are spells that can hurt you so badly you do end up dying, but… God, I hate referencing this franchise with a burning passion. Do you know Harry Potter?” 

“I watched some of the movies,” he said. 

“You know how they have that _Avada Kedavra_ spell that can cause instantaneous death with no harm to the body?” Izumi rolled her eyes. “Complete and utter nonsense. That’s not real. There’s no magic that can do that.” 

Banri wasn’t particularly interested in using magic to kill people (yet) so he didn’t comment. 

“The law of Death means there’s no such thing as pure necromancy either,” she finally remarked. “No restoration of a soul to the living world once left, understand? What you did with your little zombie fiasco was just another version of what Kazunari can do with an origami bird.” 

Banri twisted his face and opened his mouth to argue. 

Izumi silenced him with a palm raised. “Banri, you have to understand. While you might be the first person to want to resurrect someone because you want to punch them, you are _not_ the first person to want to undo Death. This has been studied for maybe as long as magic has been a thing—it’s _not possible_. You can waste your entire life walking down a well-tread path that goes nowhere if you want to but I’m telling you now that it _does_ go _absolutely nowhere_.” 

Banri pursed his lips. 

“If anyone can do what no one else has before,” he ground out at last, challenging her with a glower, “it would be me.” 

Izumi leaned her chin on her hand. “You know, if it were anybody else, I’d think you were egotistical and full of yourself. Which I know you are, I say this lovingly but also as a person who’s known you for a few weeks now.” 

He bobbed his head. “Fair. I’m vain. Don’t really care about it.” 

She laughed again. 

“Third law?” 

“Right, right. Love.” 

Banri's head lolled back and he groaned. 

“What!” Izumi squawked. “This is also a very important law!” 

“I swear to god, if you start spitting out Emily Dickinson—" 

Izumi rolled her eyes. “Love is another concept that’s been explored by magicians for a very long time. Not necessarily romantic, of course—familial, platonic, you name it. There are a handful of greek terms I can’t spit out right now but Tsuzuru would probably be able to tell you.” 

Of course the Nerd would, Banri thought scathingly. 

Izumi made another face. Talking about the three laws always made something feel off in her stomach. “People have been able to replicate facets of love, sure. The obsessive component, lust, even subliminal fondness. You know, like, if you hear someone talking bad about a person you like, you instantly feel an urge to defend them even if you can’t understand why? But no one has ever, _ever_ been able to replicate genuine Love. Adoring someone or something so wholly, you’re willing to put down everything for that sake.” 

Lust was one thing. Obsession was another. And some magicians willing to dabble in black magic were content with just those. But when the chips were down, no one had been able to make a spell or a potion that would have someone put their life down for another. Izumi herself had a theory in her heart that maybe it was because spells trying to control Love were intrinsically evil. How could you replicate Love with magic if you weren't willing to let it happen naturally?

Banri took in a slow and steady breath. 

“What about research on ghosts,” he said finally. “How much is there done on that?” 

Not much. Ghosts were still considered fairly mysterious forces of existence in the magic world. Ghosts were simply there. Sometimes they could turn malevolent and dangerous if they were hateful enough. They moved on, whether on their own or at the blade of a Hunter. Izumi told Banri this. 

“But we might be able to scrounge up a book or two from my office if you’d like,” she added when Banri’s face fell. She hated disappointing her students. “I’ll look into it for you.” 

He knocked his knuckles on the table. “Dope. If you do, I’ll teach Rurikawa how to take a hit.” 

“ _Banri_.” 

He made very emphasized air quotes. "‘Self defense.’” 

Izumi shook her head. That would probably be the best she could get from him.

* * *

Muku and Citron sat in the courtyard again, side by side and with their legs crossed. Citron held a cup of warm tea in his hands. The days were getting warmer, he thought to himself pleasantly. 

“So what do you see, Muku?” he asked. 

Muku squinted at Misumi, who was still chattering with Monica as he helped her make her nest. She’d apparently sent him off to collect armfuls of long, dry grasses and thin branches. 

“Misumi’s aura is blue,” Muku said slowly. “A little darker than the sky and his hair. There’s something there though… it’s blurry.” 

Citron chuckled lightly. “Touch helps. Why don’t you shake his hand?” 

“Okay!” 

Muku got up from the grass and walked over. Citron watched his apprentice give a tentative greeting and hold his hand out. Misumi shook it excitedly, rambling about all he’d learned from Monica that morning. 

Something must have clicked for the young Seer. He bounded back, ecstatic. 

“They’re triangles!” he said brightly. “Yellow and kind of shimmery. They float around him and they spin a little. They’re so pretty!” 

Citron nodded. “Auras reflect foods.” 

“Moods, sir.” 

“Ah! Yes, moods. Every aura is different and it can take getting to know the person to understand the patterns in their aura. Misumi…” Citron’s smile went smaller but softer. “The triangles are very new for him. I believe they appear when he feels safe and happy.” 

Muku’s eyes glimmered. “Oh, I see! Um… so if someone’s aura—changes totally. What does that mean?” 

This would be about the brownie, Citron guessed. “Something very big has happened. If an aura changes where it becomes un—” What was the word? “Unreckoned?” 

“Unrecognizable, sir?” 

“Unrecognizable! Thank you, Muku. They have experienced something so drastic, it will shape who they are. This can be either good or bad but as long as they have love around them, the person will grow in a safe way.” Citron watched Muku hesitate. “This is why we See, Muku. To know when things happen. To help. That is why you have this gift.” 

“Gift,” Muku echoed.

“Yes. Gift.” 

His apprentice sat back down, gloomy. The way he could flip between such drastic moods was always amusing for Citron.

“It doesn’t feel like a gift sometimes,” Muku murmured. 

“That is because very little things in this world are good just because they are good, young man,” Citron said. This would be a lesson Muku needed dearly. “It is what we make of it. This is why we must work very hard to make sure it is, indeed, a gift.” 

Muku took in a slow breath but still looked troubled. “Okay, mister Citron.” 

The older Seer pointed towards the dorms. “What is Tsuzuru’s aura?” 

Muku’s eyes suddenly went teary. “I’m scared about that. Is Tsuzuru going to die?!” 

Honestly, that was a fair question. Tsuzuru’s aura was meager, flickering, and sometimes sank from bright teal to murky brown. Citron burst out laughing. 

“No, no,” he assured, wiping his eyes for any stray tears. “Tsuzuru is just wired.” 

“Tired, sir.” 

“He is very tired, Muku. He is fine.” 

Probably. Citron had seen the days when Tsuzuru came back home from university with an aura so bleak, it looked like it would belong more appropriately to a ninety year old man weary of the world. Those were the days Citron knew to tell the Director that Tsuzuru would need some coffee and a hug. 

“What about the Director?” Citron asked. 

Muku clapped his hands in glee. “I love the Director’s aura! Sometimes, I think I could look at it for days. It’s so white and blue, a-and it’s so soft! Yuki’s aura is soft too, but hers is like, um… The sky. Or the ocean. I don’t know how to explain it.” 

And it was true. Citron closed his eyes and thought back to the first day he’d met Izumi Tachibana. 

She had virtually no magic. Just enough of a spark to catch his eye but only because he’d been so desperately looking for someone magic to help him with his wraith problem. 

Yet, it hadn’t even been that that had caught his attention that fateful day. It’d been the way her soul was so wide and so true. The Director’s soul _was_ like the sky, he mused to himself. But specifically, the sky that greeted people after a stormy day. A sky that had earned its right to be peaceful and would fight to remain so. 

“Kazunari’s?” Citron prompted before he became too swept up in his daydreams. 

Muku went pink. 

He chuckled again. “It is okay, you can say it. I have seen the same.” 

“It’s shallow,” Muku whispered like he was ashamed to admit it. “It’s—well, it’s very shiny! Like a really p-polished window. Which is nice! But…” 

“It is very, _very_ shallow,” Citron agreed with a snort. 

Kazunari was a playful soul. Perhaps it lacked depth and development but that wasn’t something to be disgusted by. A conservative hedonist that had worldly desires but not much else. Citron didn’t mind! He found that the shallow souls were the ones who were always the most trustworthy. It was the deep and twisted ones you had to be wary about. 

Citron's stomach twinged.

Deep and twisted souls like Banri’s.

"Let's divine the future in the clouds again!" Citron cheered.

* * *

“Director?” Omi called as he came back from the laundry room, a pile of neatly folded shirts in his hands. 

“In the office, Omi!” Izumi shouted back. 

Banri made a face. “Is that the fu—freakin' _cop?_ Shouldn’t you have let him go if you found him?” 

If only. “There was an issue. Omi’s a part of the Coven now! It’s good to have a little muscle on hand to deal with problems so I don’t mind.” 

“You teach brats how to make teacups float, what kinda ‘muscle’ do you need around here?” 

Izumi raised an eyebrow as she stooped to check the bottom shelves. “Oh, gee, I sure don’t know, Banri. Maybe when a _brat_ with no training decides to unearth an entire graveyard for a new season of the Walking Dead, but what are the chances of that?” 

Banri paused. Nodded once and then continued looking around for any books on ghosts. “Fair.” 

“Mhm. Shut up and keep searching, it's gotta be somewhere around here.” 

Omi poked his head into her office and gave her the softest smile. Which promptly disappeared when he saw Banri. 

“You,” he said. 

“Me,” Banri shot back. “You’re lucky I’m not suing you for fracturing my rib and concussing me.” 

Izumi rolled her eyes and got up. “No, _we’re_ lucky Omi’s choosing not to sell us out to the Council. Relax.” 

“I could never do anything that would upset you, Director,” Omi said as warmth filled his voice. He showed her the done laundry. “Is there anything else you need help with around here?"

“You can just take a break, Omi,” she said. “You’ve already done so much and everyone’s busying themselves. Tenma and Masumi are in the training room. Sakuya’s helping out Matsukawa with the storage, Citron and Muku are doing their lessons, Yuki’s drawing up an inventory for his move-in soon. Say, why don’t you do the same? I’m sure you’re going to need a few things to move in.” 

“Are there enough rooms?” Omi asked. 

Izumi sat back and thought about it. Not counting her own room and Matsukawa’s, the Coven had 12 dormitories available. Sakuya, Tsuzuru, Citron, Itaru, Masumi, Muku, Tenma, Misumi, and soon Yuki and Omi. Only ten people. 

“Yeah, we’ve got space to spare,” she said with a bright smile. 

Omi bowed his head. “Alright then, I’ll make a list. I hope you won’t mind coming home with me to pick them up later tonight?” 

“That’s fine.” 

Banri looked back and forth between the two of them. His upper lip curled in distaste. 

“Is this the ‘issue’ you were talking about?” he spat out. “Gross. I thought you had better taste, Director.” 

The two adults stared at the boy, neither able to follow his train of thought. 

“So what, you’re just going to let every guy who wants to get into your pants stay here now?” 

Omi let out a scandalized squeak-turned-cough that was much too delicate for someone his size. Izumi didn’t even have the time to appreciate the funny side of it as she bellowed “BANRI!” at the top of her lungs. 

“Don’t be so juvenile!” 

Banri jabbed a finger in Omi’s direction. “He’s been giving you puppy eyes nonstop for the past minute! What do you mean I’m being _juvenile_ , I’m being honest!” 

Puppy eyes was too accurate for comfort but not in the way Banri had _grievously_ mistaken the situation. Izumi flicked a finger and sent a pack of sticky notes flying through the air to smack him on his forehead. 

“It is not like that, and if you start acting like it is I’m going to have you planting cauliflower until your hands crack,” she warned. “Omi is just a friend.” 

The werewolf hesitated. “…Can’t you call me your best friend?” 

“OMI, YOU’RE NOT HELPING.” 

Banri shook his head. “Grooooosssssss. Listen, I know you’re like forty or something but you don’t have to settle. Just because he’s built like the Wall of China doesn’t mean he’s automatically a ten, this guy sucks. He can’t even throw a decent punch.” 

“FORTY?” Izumi repeated. “Banri, I’m in my mid-twenties!” 

“And I also did have you beat, need I remind you,” Omi pointed out. 

“Yeah after you concussed me. Cheap win, dick. Doesn’t count.” 

Izumi buried her face in her hands. She hated it here so much, she really did.

* * *

Misumi felt bored. 

Monica had told him she wanted to sleep and couldn’t if he was going to keep blabbering around her. The Director was busy getting angry at Banri and Omi in the office. And the garbage trucks weren’t coming to dump their cargo at the dump for another two days so triangle hunting could wait until then. For maximum benefits! 

He got up from the couch and did a handstand, hoping the blood rushing to his head would give him an idea. After a moment, it did! Misumi got back to his feet. Kazunari and Tsuzuru! They should still be in their lab. 

He knocked on their door. 

“Guuuuuys,” he whined. “It’s me. Let me in.” 

Scuffling. Kazunari opened the door, pale and shaky. 

“Come in quick, Sumi,” he murmured, pulling Misumi inside and slamming the door shut. He shot a Rune over his shoulder to lock it properly once again. “We might have just made a major breakthrough.” 

“You guys say that every hour, it never really ends up being an actual breakthrough!” Misumi said, giving Kazunari a gentle elbow to the ribs. 

Tsuzuru took off his lab goggles. If Kazunari looked tired, Tsuzuru looked like he’d been hit by a truck and necromanced back. Misumi winced as he could _see_ the blue veins under his skin. The corpse in the glass case looked a little more rosy-cheeked than Tsuzuru. 

“Black magic,” he whispered, wetting his cracked lips. “It’s one of the only few things we haven’t tried out. I’d normally never do this but if I can’t find an antidote, I’m going to lose my mind. I’m willing to put aside some of my morals right now.” 

Misumi shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Tsuzuru… you kind of look like you’ve already lost your mind.” 

He was a little worried, if he was being honest. There was only a small sample of the corpse’s black muck on the petri dish between the two Casters but the prolonged exposure had obviously not done them any good. Both of them looked ghastly. 

Tsuzuru rubbed his eyes and let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously of a sob. “That’s possible if I’m asking you to do black magic. You’re looking at a man at the end of his rope, Misumi. But it’s been… _weeks_ of near nonstop work and I have nowhere else to turn to. This project can’t be a bust, I’m not going to let it be. I thought I’d be able to make leaps and bounds if I could replicate the magithetical, I’d—" 

“Magithetical?” Misumi interrupted with a tilt to his head. 

Kazunari slid into his stool and hunched over a notebook, going back to scribbling notes. “Antithetical to magic. We took a break at sunrise to make up a word for the slime since Tsuzuroon said we can’t keep on calling it ‘slime.’ I wanted to call it Moop for magic goop but he said no.” 

“I like Moop though.” 

“We are not calling it Moop!” Tsuzuru cried, pulling at his hair. “It doesn’t even make sense! It’s not magic goop, it’s anti-magic goop! So it’d be Anti-Moop if anything.” 

“Moop just rolls off the tongue, dude.” 

Misumi nodded. “I vote for Moop.” 

“WE ARE NOT CALLING IT MOOP.” 

Kazunari forced a grin. “Two votes against one. If we’re being democratic, Sumi and I win. Moop.” 

“ _NO!_ ” Tsuzuru slapped himself a few times. “Fuck, that’s not even the point. What was I saying again?” 

“You were going to admit that we’re super smart and that you’re going to let us call it Moop,” Kazunari teased. 

Tsuzuru lunged across the table. “I’m going to kill you.” 

“Black magic?” Misumi reminded him. 

“Right, right.” Tsuzuru put on a pair of rubber gloves and approached the glass case. He slowly opened the top and reached inside the cadaver’s open ribcage to remove a large glass jar. It was filled to the brim with Moop. 

Kazunari closed his nose as Tsuzuru uncorked it and poured out another sample into the nearest vial available. Then he stopped the jar up again, placed it within the corpse, and closed the glass coffin once more. 

Misumi shuddered. “Is the body necessary?” 

“It’s the only thing that stops the jar from shattering,” Tsuzuru whispered. “I’m trying really hard not to think about it too much. If we leave the jar outside for an hour, the glass shatters. Cleaning it up and trying to salvage what I could of the magithetical that first time… Urgh. I’d rather not remember.” 

He handed Misumi the vial. “Anything. Not—not something that’ll destroy the lab, of course.” 

Misumi set his lips and nodded. “Only because you’re the one asking me. And you _can’t_ tell the Director I did this, she said I wasn’t allowed to use black magic unless I was in big trouble.” 

Tsuzuru and Kazunari raised their right hands in unison. 

“I swear on my honor as a Minagi Caster.” 

“Swearsies on being a proud as heck Miyoshi!” 

Tsuzuru cringed. “That’s… not the correct—WHATEVER. I’m over it. C’mon, Misumi.” 

Misumi put his fingertip by the lip of the little vial and sent a few dark blue sparks hurtling into the Moop. But just like the several Runes they’d already tested out, the sparks simply either sank into the goo and fizzled out or bounced right back. Misumi winced as one stray zing burnt his finger. 

“Ow,” he complained, sticking it into his mouth to suck on it. 

Tsuzuru crumpled to the floor and pounded a fist on the ground. “FUCK.” 

“Tsuzuroon—" 

“ _FUCK_!” he bellowed again. His shoulders shook. “What the FUCK is it? Why does NOTHING WORK. What are we supposed to do?!” 

Misumi crouched down and patted Tsuzuru’s head. “You guys could quit the project.” 

“No, Misumi, we can’t quit the fucking project!” Tsuzuru snapped, whipping his head up to glare at the Witch. “Because the next time something tries to kill us and has a reservoir of magithetical inside of it, we’re going to die! And not just us, the city! My _family_ could be in danger, this is a risk we have to address now!” 

No one spoke. Tsuzuru’s chest heaved for air after his miniature tantrum and he bowed his head back down again. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he apologized after a moment. 

“It’s okay,” Misumi said softly. “You’re tired. You should rest.” 

“No time,” he declared and forced himself to his feet where he wavered. “More work. There has to be something we’re doing wrong, something we’re not _seeing_. There’s always a solution, it’s just n-not… Not easy.” 

And for the third time since last night, Tsuzuru began crying again. His eyes blinked rapidly as frustrated tears welled up and escaped. He wiped them away and slumped down onto his stool. The several open notebooks, all filled with his scrawling, began swimming in his vision. 

Misumi suddenly reached out and grabbed Tsuzuru by his shoulders. “No.” 

“No?” 

“No. You’re tired and you need to rest.” Misumi leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s not good to be like this, Tsuzu. You’re going to burn out.” 

Tsuzuru snorted. He’d heard _that_ before but here he was, still standing and with a decent GPA. At this point, he might as well just schedule a mental breakdown in his school planner for every other day. 

“I have work, Misumi. You can sit with us again but I need to get this done.” 

“You _need_ to rest,” Misumi insisted. He pointed to Kazunari. “Like him!” 

Kazunari had once again slumped over onto his notebook where he was drooling onto his notes. 

“Miyoshi, wake up!” Tsuzuru snapped. 

Misumi grabbed the frazzled Caster around his waist and _lifted him up_. 

“WH—MISUMI, PUT ME DOWN!” 

The Witch just laughed and swung Tsuzuru like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. “Tsuzuru, are you eating enough? You’re tall but you don’t weigh a lot.” 

“I AM AVERAGE!” 

Misumi hummed under his breath, marching forward and unlocking the lab’s door. The Director was in the living room with Sakuya now, going over a new lesson. The two of them watched Misumi haul Tsuzuru towards his bedroom. 

“Should we help?” Sakuya asked her. 

Izumi squinted. “Which person do we help?” 

“I-I’m not sure, Director.” 

“Huh. Let’s just let Misumi do his thing. Now, about this spell to change color…” 

“TRAITOR!” Tsuzuru hollered at her. “MISUMI, PUT ME DOWN.” 

And Misumi did, but only when he entered Tsuzuru’s dorm and could deposit the Caster on his bed. 

What had the Director done to make him feel better? Right. Misumi forced Tsuzuru underneath the blankets and tucked him in. Tsuzuru struggled weakly. 

“I’m not a child!” he cried. 

“But you’re acting like one!” Misumi said brightly and ducked back out. He returned with Kazunari in his arms, still completely unconscious. He laid his friend down beside Tsuzuru, also tucking him in. “Okay. You’re going to sleep now until dinner time and then after food, you’re going back to sleep.” 

“This is _humiliating_ ,” Tsuzuru hissed. 

Misumi just gave him an even wider smile. He sat on the corner of the bed, back turned. “It’s okay. I’ll keep you guys safe.” 

“Misumi, I’m not even tired, it’s not like I can…” And just like that, Tsuzuru’s entire body went limp and he passed out. Soon, two snores filled the room and Misumi had to laugh quietly once more.

* * *

Banri left the office with the sought after book on ghosts. It was thinner than he would have liked but he would take what he could get. He began to make his way down the hall. 

“Yo, Director, I’m…” His voice pattered out. 

Banri stopped. 

He walked back a few steps. 

The door to the Nerd’s lab was unlocked and cracked open just a smidgen. 

… 

Couldn’t hurt, right? 

Banri made sure no one was watching him and quickly ducked inside. He closed the door behind him and looked around. Notes, notes… Dead body in a glass case? Wasn’t very surprising, he’d always thought the Nerd was kind of a fucking weirdo. This didn’t seem too out of character. That was one of Banri’s from the whole Dead Summoning thing. What were they doing with it?

He sat on a stool and began flipping through Minagi’s open notebook. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Banri "I Will Cause Problems On Purpose" Settsu
> 
> Next chapter: Omi and Izumi pick up his things from his apartment. Tsuzuru wakes up to his worst nightmare. Banri begins teaching Yuki "self-defense." Sakuya, Masumi, and Tenma decide to go get something to eat after school. And Muku notices something very disturbing about someone in the Coven.


	22. Hollow Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FIC GOT MORE ART......... PLEASE LOOK AT GAMER ITARU I'M REALLY SHOOK THAT TALENTED PEOPLE ARE READING THIS FIC AND ALSO EXERTING ENERGY FOR IT ( ; - ; )
> 
> https://twitter.com/shinjukusunset/status/1286770364077486083?s=20

“You moved in alright?” Izumi asked as Yuki closed the door behind him. “I didn’t think you’d do it so quickly, you wrote that list _this afternoon_.” 

“Meh. My parents were okay with it and I didn’t have too many things I needed packed up. They’ll fax you the forms tonight, by the way." 

She stooped down to let the brownie sit on her palm and deposited him on her desk. He primly sat on the stapler again. 

“That Matsukawa guy is so whiney,” he sniffed. “Complained on and on about how my sewing machine weighed a ton. So what if it does? It’s a necessity.” 

“Right.” She flipped open the register. “Let’s get started." 

“Brownie magic is a little difficult to describe to a stranger,” Yuki began slowly. 

Izumi waved for him to continue, pen in hand as she got ready to jot down whatever came out of his mouth. A Coven had never taken a brownie in before as a student, so she’d have nothing to go off of except what Yuki cared to tell her. 

And so Yuki tried his best to explain what his magic was like. 

Brownies were domestic creatures, much like house spirits and domovoi, which meant their magical power was tied to homes. 

“The ‘home' part is really important here,” he added for emphasis. 

Brownies could not do magic outside unless they had other brownies with them. 

“Is it an ability thing or a mental thing?” Izumi asked. “Like… can you only do magic when other brownies are around because that’s when you feel safe enough to? Or does magic legitimately not work at all.” 

Yuki shook his head. “Not a drop. I won’t be able to make even a pinhead float if I don’t have my parents or my sister with me." 

Brownies could not do magic in empty houses because empty houses were just “buildings.” Their magic worked only in places where people considered to be home. 

“So if there was a man sleeping in cave, you’d be able to use your magic there?” Izumi prompted. 

Yuki nodded. “Hypothetically, if the man considered the cave his home, yes. I’d be able to manipulate the rocks and such inside. Just like how I can move things inside of the dorms—because some of you consider it to be home, a real one.” 

Her eyes went misty. “Oh my gosh, really? The boys think of the Coven as their home? That’s so sweet. Give me a second, I think I might start crying." 

“Don’t,” Yuki said flatly and continued. 

The magic of domestic creatures were very interesting and far from what Izumi had assumed them to be like. While, yes, if they lived under contract with someone kind, they would use their powers for cleaning or for chores, their magic was for all intents and purposes limited in the confines of a home. 

“I’m only fourteen so I’m getting a hang of it,” Yuki admitted. “I’m only really good at making things. My sister has a knack for the cleaning and the cooking, I have a knack as a tailor and a cobbler.” 

“A cobbler,” Izumi echoed and her stomach rumbled. She rubbed it to keep the newfound spike of hunger at bay. 

Yuki looked very unimpressed. “Please tell me you’re not thinking about peach cobbler.” 

“…No, of course not.” 

“A cobbler is someone who makes shoes,” Yuki said, face tightening with disgust again. “But it’s hard work and my hands get calloused if I do it too often so I try to avoid it.” 

“Right. How expansive _are_ your powers when you’re inside of a home?” 

Yuki slowly raised both hands. Izumi shrieked as her chair and the desk both lifted a few feet into the air. She gripped the armrests to stabilize herself. 

“OKAY, GOT IT. PUT US DOWN, YUKI.” 

He lowered his hands and then pointed at one of the shelves. Each book flew off and began flying around them wildly in circles, like a small hurricane had entered a library. Izumi ducked to avoid getting brained by a grimoire. Having proven his point once again, Yuki gestured towards the shelves again and the books returned, all in their proper place. 

“Incredible,” Izumi said at last. “But… only indoors?” 

“I suppose I could do magic in the courtyard and back garden as well,” he said and shrugged. “But the second I’m on the streets, I’m basically a magic-less. A foot tall magic-less.” 

“But you can change sizes still?” she asked. 

He nodded. “But that’s just because of the glamour. That’s not my magic I’m using, my family bought it from one of the Casters in the city when I started going to school.” 

Izumi sighed and leaned back in her chair, speculating. The point of the Coven was to teach magic and to help young magicians (mythics now, she supposed) understand their gifts and flourish with them. But the difference between, say, Sakuya and Yuki from what she could gather was that while Sakuya would need a lot of help shaping his magic to be what he wanted it to be, Yuki seemed to have a strong grasp on it already. 

“You want to be a student at the Coven specifically to learn how to fight?” she asked. “That’s all?” 

“For now.” 

She frowned. “Hmm. But you wouldn’t need to join a Coven for just that, you know? I don’t think we’d be able to help you hone your magical abilities. You seem to have a complete control over them.” 

Yuki didn’t say anything. 

Izumi rolled her chair closer to him and leaned on her elbows to face the brownie at his level. “Yuki, tell me the truth. Is there another reason why you want to join the Coven? I’m all ears.” 

“Muku’s here,” he offered quietly. 

“And?” 

The tips of his pointed ears went red. “Listen. I don’t have… I don’t know a lot of people who're aware magic. And it's not like magicians go out of their way to make friends with brownies either. Maybe I just want a place where I can meet new people, is that such a crime? I’m fourteen, I’m eligible in terms of age. I don’t want to end up like my parents, the only people they can be friends with is each other or extended family! And that’s—" 

Izumi giggled and shook her head. “I thought so. Okay, let’s come to an agreement. You’ll become a student at Mankai Coven. We’ll enroll you officially and send the form off to the Council. You’ll move in, I already got Banri to agree to a few lessons, but I will give you two requirements.” 

Yuki raised an eyebrow. 

“The first one. You _have_ to be nice to Tenma,” she said firmly. 

“ _Ugh_.” 

“Yuki,” she warned. 

He clicked his tongue and didn’t say anything. 

“I’m not going to invite someone to come live with us if they’re going to be antagonistic. Tenma’s a teacher but he’s only sixteen and I don’t want him to hate it here,” Izumi said. “Do we have an agreement?” 

He let out a gusty sigh too big for his small body. “Fine. If I have to. But if he’s being a narcissistic stuck up towards me, I’m not going to take it.” 

That sounded fair enough. “Put Tenma in his place if it comes to it but I don’t think it will. Second requirement: we’re going to explore brownie magic together and see where we can take it.” 

“There’s not much exploring for brownie magic to be done.” 

“That’s where I think you’re wrong,” she said simply. “You know it better than I do. Mythics haven’t been studied to the same extent magicians have been because magicians are the ones who write the books. That’s not fair, right? Who’s to say we won’t find something really interesting deep down inside. You might be capable of more than either of us could know.” 

Yuki stared at the Director and gave her a small upturn of his lips. “I think I get why Muku likes you so much.” 

“Huh?” 

He hopped off the desk and activated his glamour, growing to his larger size. He turned and offered her his hand. “That sounds fine, Director. Thank you.” 

Izumi grinned brightly and gave the boy a firm shake. “Classes start tomorrow."

* * *

“I have dinner ready for the kids if they want to eat,” Omi told her when she left her office. He had a small pile of flattened cardboard boxes in his arms, obviously lent to him by Matsukawa. “Would you mind going with me to my old apartment now?” 

Izumi grinned. “Sure! Walking distance?” 

“It’s a bit of a trek but not bad at all.” 

“Do I wear boots or sneakers?” 

“Sneakers sound like a good idea.” Omi nudged down the bottom of one of Matsukawa’s t-shirts as it rode up his midsection. It was the only one they could find on hand that even remotely covered his frame. “I’m looking forward to changing out of this.” 

Izumi chuckled and slipped her shoes on. “Citron! We’re heading out to get Omi’s things, you’re in charge while I’m gone!” 

“Yes, Director,” he called from the living room. “Be safe!" 

Masumi popped up before she could open the door. “Where are you going?” 

“Omi’s to help him pack up.” 

Masumi gave the werewolf a scalding glare. 

“I don’t trust him,” Masumi said finally. “Let me go with you.” 

“No, don’t you have homework?” She gave his forehead a light poke. “Go get started on it. We’ll be back soon.” 

Omi placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to put on what he thought was a reassuring smile. “I’ll keep the Director very safe, Masumi. Promise.” 

“You look worse in Matsukawa’s clothes than he does,” Masumi said very bitterly and turned to storm back into the dorms, feet dragging behind him. 

“There’s dinner on the stove, Masumi!” Izumi said and finally slipped outside. She stretched the second she caught the smell of the sweet spring evening air. “God. I can’t remember the last time I got to leave the Coven for a _normal_ reason.” 

Yesterday had been to find a poached brownie and werewolf. The time before that had been… She shuddered. Ah. Right. The ball. Man, she really needed to go out more. She filed away a note in the back of her mind to go out for drinks with Citron sometime. 

Izumi gave Omi’s chest a light smack as they walked. “Hey, you’re twenty! You can go to bars!” 

He gave her a sweet smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever been before. You’ll have to go with me or else I’ll get nervous.” 

“You drink?” 

Omi cleared his throat. “Is that a trick question? Will I get in trouble if I tell you I drank when I was underaged?” 

“I’d be berating the crap out of you if you were _still_ a kid but…” She shook her head. “We’ve all been there. Hey! On the bright side, this means you can go to a bar with me and Citron.” 

“Are we the only people twenty and over?” 

Izumi did a quick count. “Kazunari’s birthday is in the summer. We’re not positive when Misumi’s birthday is but we also can’t get an ID for him so he might not be able to go to bars for a while. Itaru—well, he’s immortal but I don’t think he’ll like leaving his room. He just drinks on his own.” 

Omi furrowed his brow. 

“Before you ask, apparently human alcohol is super weak compared to what he drinks usually and I don’t think he even has a liver to damage,” she added. 

The two chatted back and forth during the walk. The sun was sinking into the horizon and turning the day to a soft twilight but Izumi didn’t mind. There was something about walking beside someone six foot tall and trained in combat that just put her at ease compared to walking on her own. They turned a corner and Omi stepped closer. 

“The neighborhood gets a little rough around here,” he explained. “It’d be better if, uh… you let me stick close.” 

“We have a rough neighborhood in this city?” 

Omi stared at her and then shook his head in quiet judgement. “How often do you leave the dorms, Director?” 

Her mom’s most recent text had been right. Maybe she _was_ wasting her twenties. 

But Omi's concerns were for naught. The streets were relatively deserted during this time. He led her to a small apartment complex, a sad cement building with cracks and spray-paint marks. 

“I try to clean them off when I have an off day but they keep coming back,” Omi said sadly. 

They went up the stairs and he paused at the door. 

“Keys are in my uniform,” he said after a moment. “I don’t suppose you can use unlock Runes?” 

Izumi thought back to the padlock and sighed. “No, sorry. I can try calling Itaru but that’s not a good idea unless it’s an emergency.” 

They stood there facing the door, neither speaking. 

“Why don’t you just break the knob?” she said suddenly. “I feel like you could. With good enough of a kick. You’re a big guy.” 

“…Would that scare you?” 

“Omi, I live with a demon.” 

Omi smiled and nodded. “Alright. I might not get back my safety deposit but that’s something I’m willing to sacrifice.” 

He reared back and gave the doorknob a firm kick with the heel of his foot. A second one and the knob clattered to the ground, splintering the door at the lock. It opened and Omi entered first. 

“It’s a mess, I’m sorry about that.” 

A complete lie, the small studio was very clean. There was a small sink and a single-burner stovetop, a bedroll in one corner, a low-rise table with some sewing work abandoned. The tatami was clean, which was saying quite a lot. She’d lived in a similar apartment in her last year at university and her mats had always gotten little grime patches she could never wipe off. 

“You’re going to miss the quiet when you move in with us,” Izumi snorted. 

Omi gave a breathy laugh as he slipped his few belongings into a cardboard box. A few shirts, a few pants. “No… I don’t think I will. I miss the noise of having others around. I used to live with my father and brothers before I started working for Sakyo. Then… I just thought it would be better to live on my own when I turned seventeen. They weren’t happy about it, of course—werewolves are pack creatures. My younger brothers cried for days after, dad told me all about it.” 

“You don’t go visit them?” Izumi asked softly. 

“I do but only for holidays. You’d be surprised how many hours I had available to work when I got started. And I happily took them all, my family definitely needed the money.” Omi gave her a sad smile. “There are very few people are willing to hire werewolves. We get what jobs we can from magic-less but…” 

Izumi rubbed his back. 

“Giving up on magic society is hard,” she agreed. 

“It’s isolating, is what it can be,” Omi said. He leaned into her touch, face oddly somber. “I’m lucky enough to pass as a human most of the time. The only involuntary switch is with contact to silver or the full moon. At least that opens the potential for me to have a very close-knit circle of friends. Tailor… Tailor would never be able to integrate into magic-less society.” 

“Never is pushing it.” 

“Director, the kid can’t go longer than sixteen hours with a glamour on. Never is… appropriate.” 

Izumi hadn’t thought of it like that. She wondered how lonely was it, truly, to be a mythic? 

“Let me help,” she said at last and leaned down to begin putting together a few of Omi’s books. Textbooks? “You go to college?” 

He flushed. “I’d like to eventually. One day, if things work out.” 

Izumi smiled at the cover of the biology book. “…I think it will, Omi. You’re fantastic, did I ever tell you that?” 

He grinned, the most wolfish one yet.

* * *

“Did the kids eat?” Izumi asked Citron as they arrived back to the dorms, both of them carrying three boxes each. 

He nodded pleasantly. “Itaru says we are out of chicken puckets. He also asks you buy the ones shaped like dinosaurs next time.” 

“Nuggets, Citron.” 

“Chicken nuggets! The kids have all gone to sleep. Misumi says Kazunari and Tsuzuru cannot wake up so they did not eat.” 

She snorted. It didn’t surprise her in the least that the both of them were completely unconscious. Kazunari did what was asked of him but Tsuzuru was a force of nature that seemed to only sleep when his body was about to shutdown. 

“You should head to bed too,” she told him. 

Citron waved over his shoulder as he headed for his dorm. “Goodnight, Director! Omi!” 

Matsukawa had luckily done as he’d been asked and cleaned up one of the vacant dorms. She dropped the boxes against one wall and leaned back until her back gave a satisfying crack. 

She eyed the other wall. “If you want, we can move you to another dorm. Itaru’s on the other one and he… well, I’m sure he’s not the calmest gamer." 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Omi asked suddenly. 

Izumi’s eyes shot wide open and she whirled around to face him. 

“Not in a strange way!” Omi emended very quickly, realizing what he’d just requested. “It just—well, the tummy rub. It’s very uncomfortable to be away from you for very long, I’m not sure if I’d be able to make it the whole night. I don’t even have to be inside of your room, honest, if you’d let me sleep in the hallway right outside your door that would be fine.” 

Izumi cleared her throat. “I’m not going to have you sleep on the floor, Omi.” 

He spared her a very adorable, very hopeful look and she had to relent. 

“Fine, fine,” Izumi said as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. She paused, realized she was acting too much like Sakyo, and took her hand away. “It can be like a slumber party. Nothing awkward, right?” 

“Nothing awkward,” he promised her.

* * *

A lie. A dirty, dirty lie. It was awkward. 

Izumi could not recall the last time she’d shared a bed with someone. Also, the bed was small and Omi was—he was a big guy. It would have been easier if they’d left the lights on, but they were just lying in the dark side by side. And it was AWKWARD. 

“Would you prefer I sleep on the floor?” he asked as a few minutes went by and she could still not relax. 

“I’d feel bad,” she complained. “What kind of person makes their friend sleep on the floor? We don’t even have a sleeping bag for you, we left your bedroll in the apartment.” 

Silence passed. Izumi rolled over and faced the wall. Omi sighed and sat up, taking his shirt off. 

“OMI?” Izumi shrieked. 

The entire bed squeaked its protest as his form shuddered. The light from the window offered very little sight except for the silhouette of someone shifting into something very not-human. Fur sprouted from skin, face elongated to snout, and Omi turned into a wolf. He curled in on himself and Izumi… 

Izumi was oddly much better with this. 

“Fido,” she teased as she rubbed his head, scratching behind his ears more on reflex than anything else. 

Omi let out an odd string of woofs that sounded like a laugh. 

And so, like that, they slept.

* * *

Tsuzuru woke up like he always did. 

Shooting off of bed and trying not to scream as he emerged from a dream where he was falling. 

Misumi lifted his head and blinked sleepily. He sat cross-legged on the floor, upper half of the body on the bed like he was tending to two sick patients. 

“You’re awake?” he murmured. 

Tsuzuru wiped his brow. He was sticky with cold sweat. “Yeah.” 

“…Did you have a nightmare?” 

“I usually do, the university's guidance counselor says it’s a stress thing.” His eyes still stung but he _did_ feel better than he had in a long time. “I’m starving. What time is it?” 

Misumi looked out the window where the sun had just started to rise. He frowned and nestled his head back into his arms. “Too early. Goodnight.” 

“Misumi, sleep on the bed. You’re going to get a bad back like that.” 

He let out a mewl and stretched his arms out. “Carry me.” 

“Not all of us are abnormally strong.” 

“Carry meeeee.” 

Tsuzuru lacked upper body strength but he _did_ have experience in hauling tired people around thanks to his younger brothers. Misumi was getting heavier as the days passed and he ate enough for a small family, but it only took a slightly embarrassing amount of time to pull him up to where Tsuzuru had been moments prior. 

Kazunari let out a drowsy garble and rolled over. Misumi snuggled closer, resting his cheek on the top of Kazunari’s head. 

The dorms were completely silent. The Director was usually up at this time to make rice but her door was shut. Tsuzuru guessed it would be a cereal breakfast then. He poured himself a bowl and headed for the lab. 

As he opened the door, it took everything in his body to not drop the bowl and scream like a cliché horror movie. 

Forget falling from a building. _This_ was Tsuzuru’s worst nightmare. 

Banri Settsu, unsupervised inside of _his_ lab. 

Although, admittedly, Nightmare-Banri was usually laughing maniacally as he set fire to everything around him and ruined weeks of hard work. This Banri was much calmer, instead just sitting on one of the stools and working hard on writing down observations. His hair was tied into a small ponytail and two empty cans of Red Bull were at his feet, crushed into tiny metal discs. 

“About time you woke up,” he snapped and threw an unfamiliar notebook into Tsuzuru’s hand. “I jotted down a few ideas I need you to check since you’d know theory better than I do. I have to head home in an hour but I’ll be back after school. Get to work." 

Tsuzuru put down his cereal on the nearest surface, stared at the Campus cover, and flipped it open. There, in Banri’s uncomfortably perfect penmanship, was an entire page of notes. Tsuzuru blinked and began skimming. He flipped over a few pages. 

“What is this?” he asked as his brain was still trying to whir to full functionality. 

Banri rolled his eyes. “Are you dumb? Here, let me lay it out for your stupid as shit brain. If the Moop—" 

“Magithetical,” he corrected softly. 

“It said Moop on Miyoshi’s book so we’re calling it Moop, dickhead. If Moop thrives on decay, causes death, and rejects life, what do you think repels it? Use your goddamned brain, nerd.” 

Tsuzuru hesitated. 

Banri tapped his foot impatiently. “Jesus Christ. Okay, Minagi, let me take you step by step very slowly. The slime shuts down magic and loves things that are rotting. What is the opposite of rotting?” 

How was it possible that Banri could get even more condescending than he was on average, Tsuzuru wondered. 

“Living?” the Caster ventured. 

“The fuck is wrong with you? No. _Recovery_. Development.” Banri took the notebook back and flipped forward a few pages until he arrived at a roughly sketched diagram. He held it out again. “Look.” 

“You’re really good at drawing,” Tsuzuru observed. 

“I’m good at everything, jackass, keep up with the times.” 

Tsuzuru looked down at the picture of a wound. Banri had shaded in what he assumed was scar tissue, then drew an arrow to a Rune barrier. 

“I don’t want you to call me something mean because I’m this,” he put his thumb and forefinger together, “close to crying, honestly, but I have to ask. What does this mean? I’m not following your picture.” 

Banri closed his eyes and looked _so_ much like Tsuzuru’s mom did whenever she was disappointed that it was almost funny. “I _included_ the pictures because I thought you would need the visual aid. It wasn’t enough?” 

“Do you want to see me cry that badly? Is this what this is about?” 

“Maybe.” Banri chuckled and shook his head. “It’s been a long night of work, you can’t blame me for wanting to put you through the grind a little. Schadenfreude.” 

Tsuzuru clicked his tongue and gestured for the boy to continue. 

“Regeneration,” Banri said with a shrug. He stuck his pen in his ponytail. “I’m saying that if you can get constant motion of magic through a Barrier, then the magithetical won’t do shit to it. It only destroys magic when it’s in a state of rest.” 

Tsuzuru opened and closed his mouth. He stared down at the notes again. This was beginning to approach very complicated levels of magic theory. Something he was pretty sure the Director didn’t even know about. Banri had put this all together in one night? What was this kid? 

“But keeping magic in a constant state of motion takes an insane amount of energy,” he said finally. 

“Yeah but this is just the prototype. If my plan works, we can go from there to try to make it more accessible.” Banri sneered and pointed over Tsuzuru’s shoulder. “And in case you haven’t realized yet, we have someone in the Coven with what _you_ wrote in your notes is a ‘limitless reservoir of magic.’” 

Tsuzuru cringed. “You—you went through my private notes?!” 

Banri opened up one of the drawers at the table and knocked the side of it. The fake bottom dropped away and he pulled out Tsuzuru’s secret folder. “You need to hide your shit better, dude. A fake bottom? Please, this is what freshmen use to hide their first dirty magazines, you should be ashamed of yourself.” 

“It’s not for anything creepy, I swear. It’s for research purposes _only_ , Sakuya is the first Firstborn Witch in decades and the only one I’ve ever met personally!” 

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me,” Banri retorted. “I honestly could not find it in myself to give two shits about your creepy, fucked hobbies. Dead body? For real? And on that topic, you put six-out-of-ten for the Director? She’s like a seven at least.” 

Tsuzuru didn’t see it but his face was so hot it felt like it would burst into flame soon. “Whatever, Banri. _Whatever_. Just what exactly do you want to do?” 

“We’ll put together a Rune sequence that prompts constant motion and have Sakuya test it. Then we’ll see if it can handle the Moop.” 

Tsuzuru pressed his lips together into a thin line. “We…” 

“Yes, we, jackass, I made more breakthroughs in this lab in the past seven hours than you have in the past, what, month?” Banri snapped. “Get off your high horse until you can actually saddle it. Loser.” 

Tsuzuru slid into Kazunari’s stool and rubbed his temples. “You say you have to leave in an hour?” 

“Forty minutes.” 

He picked up a pen and nodded. “Let’s get to work, then.”

* * *

“Ah! Masumi, look, it’s Tenma!” 

Tenma stiffened at the sound of his name and turned. Sakuya was running towards him, predictably wearing his school uniform. School had been let out at Ouka High half an hour ago, it wasn’t too large of a leap to assume that Hanasaki let out at a similar time. Sakuya had that dumb smile on his face as he waved. Tenma waited for the dumb smile to get closer. 

“Drama club skipped meeting today since our stage manager is out sick,” he explained as he caught his breath. “Are you in any clubs at your school?” 

“Uh, not really. I usually just want to go home when school’s finished.” Tenma craned his neck to look over Sakuya’s shoulder. As expected, Masumi was ambling towards them as well although with much less excitement than his senior had expressed. “Do you guys go to drama club every day?” 

Masumi caught up and gave a single nod to acknowledge Tenma’s existence. The three of them started walking in the direction of the dorms. 

“I like it!” Sakuya said as his face glowed. “Magic is great but before I joined the Coven, all I really had to invest my time in was drama club. I still like acting, of course, even if I’m still trying to get over stage fright.” 

“You need to get better at reviewing your lines too,” Masumi deadpanned as he shrugged his headphones off and let them rest on his shoulders. Music still flooded through it but at least now he’d be able to tune in on their conversation as well. “You flub up at least once every other page.” 

“Ah, yeah… But we’ve still got some time before we have to perform so I’ll be okay! I promise.” 

Tenma stopped and jerked his head down another path. “Do you guys want to get something before we go back? It’s on me.” 

“I wanna go back and see the Director as soon as possible.” 

Sakuya began pushing Masumi down the street. “Masumi, this is a good opportunity to be social! Come on, if Tenma’s paying we might as well.” 

“No. Don’t wanna.” 

“Is anyone going to talk to him about how weird it is for him to crush on someone eight years older,” Tenma said under his breath. 

“I can hear you,” he snapped. “I’m turning seventeen soon. Then it’s just another year. It’s true love.” 

Sakuya laughed awkwardly. “Well, um. I think we’re trying not to talk about it. Hoping it’s a phase he grows out of!” 

“ _It’s true love_.” 

“You guys are all so weird,” Tenma muttered. 

It was a sweet little patisserie Sakuya had never gone to before. Tenma had been once or twice and it sold good pastries—far from his house but comfortably close to the dorms. Which was why he’d gotten the driver to drop him off farther away than usual. 

The fact that Sakuya and Masumi was joining him was just an extra bonus he would rather die than admit was a bonus. 

Friends. Getting something to eat with them after school. Tenma preened on the inside. He’d never had _friends_ before. 

“What do you want?” he asked, digging through his school bag for his wallet. 

Sakuya squinted at the menu written in overly flourished golden letters. “I’ve never really been to some place like this before. Do you have a recommendation, Tenma?” 

Recommendation? _Recommendation?_ What if he ordered something Sakuya hated? Sakuya was a nice guy, he’d force himself to drink the entire thing and maybe he’d get sick from it. Maybe he’d even have an allergic reaction and die and it would all be Tenma’s fault, and he’d get tossed out of the Coven for having endangered somebody. He’d never— 

Masumi rolled his eyes. “Get him a hot chocolate.” 

“I love hot chocolate! That’d work great!” 

Hot chocolate it was. 

“You?” Tenma prompted the other Hunter. 

Masumi shrugged. “I’ll take an Americano. And a scone, since you’re buying.” 

“Sure.” Tenma ordered a box of cake slices to-go as well for the people back at the dorm. He handed over the credit card, accepted the receipt, and the three boys grabbed a table until their drinks were ready. 

“What’s your favorite thing in school, Tenma?” Sakuya asked. “I feel like we never get to talk about things outside of magic.” 

And for good reason, honestly, Tenma hated school with a burning passion. None of it ever ended up making sense, especially math. 

“Phys Ed,” he said at last after torturing himself over an answer. “You?” 

“I like world history! I always wanted to travel but I couldn’t see how. If I get a hang of teleportation eventually though, I should be able to go anywhere in the world.” 

Masumi got up when the barista called Tenma’s name. “I’ll go get it.” 

Tenma cocked his head to the side and looked confused. “You don’t need to teleport though, do you? Why don’t you just take a private jet?” 

Sakuya stared at him like he’d grown another arm. “A private jet… Tenma, do you have a private jet?” 

“Well, yeah. Isn’t it a pretty normal thing to have?” 

Sakuya looked _very_ conflicted. He leaned over and placed his hand over Tenma’s. “I need you to know that I think you’re really cool, and I think the fact that your family owns a private jet is really cool too, but I don’t think you should tell anybody in the Coven.” 

“Why?” 

“Tenma, please, believe me. It’s better if you don’t.” 

He furrowed his brow. “…Fine, sure. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal.” 

“...I—" Sakuya burst out laughing and slapped a hand over his mouth. “Yeah. Trust me on this one, you definitely should not mention the Sumeragi Airlines.” 

“It’s not an airlines, Sakuma, it’s a private jet we keep in a corporate lot two towns over for continental flights. Don’t be dramatic.” 

Sakuya shook his head again.

* * *

“Yo,” Banri said, nudging Sakuya’s knee with his toe. “Scram. Saint Flora’s was let out and I’m supposed to pummel Rurikawa in a few minutes.” 

Sakuya’s eyes popped open. He rubbed them and shook himself out of the stupor. That hot chocolate with Tenma and Masumi had been a bad idea, warm drinks always made him drowsy. “Oops, I must have dozed off. Sorry, Banri! Please don’t tell the Director I fell asleep in the middle of meditation.” 

“Do I look like the type?" 

The Witch giggled. “No, no, I guess not. Um… what’s this about ‘pummeling’ Yuki?” 

Banri shrugged. “Director told me she’d gimme something I wanted if I did her the favor. And it’s not like I have anything better to do.” 

“That’s great, Banri! I didn’t know you were good at fighting.” 

“I’m good at _everything._ " 

Sakuya blinked a few times and repeated the words silently like he was trying to understand. “Everything? Really?" 

Banri stuck his hands into his pockets. 

“Yep,” he said, popping the P. Then he sneered. “You wanna test me?” 

“I-I believe you! But…” Sakuya touched the tips of his index fingers. “Would you be upset if I asked for a demonstration? I just think that's really cool. Being blessed must be nice.” 

It sure as hell wasn’t. “You got anything in mind?” 

Sakuya floundered for a moment. “What about gymnastics? Have you ever—“ 

Banri immediately sank into a full split, expression unchanging. Sakuya gawked down at him before bursting into applause. 

“Banri, that’s incredible! That’s so, so awesome, I don’t even know where to begin!” 

“Hold your horses, I’ve got a feeling I can do more.” There was still a bit further he could go before hitting his maximum allowance for flexibility. Banri got to his feet, stretched out his arms, and then did a forward handspring. 

“WOW—“ 

He didn’t stop, building momentum. Two more handsprings, and then a final full turn in the air without touching the ground at all. He landed firmly on the balls of his feet and returned his hands to his pockets. He turned and gave Sakuya a nod. 

“See?” he jeered. “Good at everything.” 

If Sakuya clapped any harder, he would bruise his palms. “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” 

“What about you? What can you do?” Banri asked. 

The Witch hesitated. “Not much, I’m afraid. Well, not much without ruining things.” 

“You must have something you’re decent at.” 

Sakuya flushed. “I learned… one thing from Misumi, but I’m not sure—" 

“Do it.” 

“Banri…” 

The boy shrugged. “I’m not going to wait forever until your balls decide to drop. Just fuckin’ do it, man.” 

Sakuya squared his shoulders and nodded firmly. He stretched out his hand and let the pleasant, buzzing warmth of magic flood down the length of his arm. _Hold it… Hold it…!_

BOOM. 

A shot of golden lightning burst forth from his palm, blasting across the entire length of the training room until it hit the opposite wall. The light faded and all that remained was a massive scorch mark. 

Banri whistled low. “Huh. Cool.” 

Sakuya laughed awkwardly. “Yeah. I like it, but, um, there’s not much opportunity to use it. Well, I’ll leave you alone now, I’m sure you’re going to be great at the whole teaching thing! Don’t go overboard.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

Sakuya left the training room. Banri looked around the wide enclosure. It was much bigger than the building should have allowed. Probably magic. Definitely magic, actually, if it didn’t crumble at Sakuya’s little show-and-tell session. He wondered if he’d be able to do something similar to his bedroom at home. 

Not a good idea, actually. His mother was the enter-then-knock kind of person and a secret renovation would be _impossible_ to explain. The door opened again behind him. 

“You’re late,” Banri remarked, turning around on his heel. 

Yuki rolled his eyes. He’d changed out of the school uniform into a blue tracksuit, although he remained human sized. “It took some time to convince Muku to let me do this on my own. I’m not sure what you did but that guy doesn’t trust you any further than he can throw you. Did you know that you have an ugly soul apparently? Like, really ugly. Enough to make Muku tear up." 

Banri rubbed his chest and wondered if that hurt his feelings. 

Nope, not at all. 

“Whatever,” he said and spread his feet further. “Alright, you wanna be a pussy and learn only self-defense like the Director said, or do you want to actually learn how to fight?” 

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Wow, he was right.” 

Banri waited for an explanation. 

The brownie rummaged around in his pockets and removed a folded note, hanging it over. Banri flipped it open and began reading. 

_Possibilities when practicing with Banri: Tabulated from most to least likely. (Please be careful, Yuki!)_

_1\. Will call you a rude name and try to goad you into becoming overly violent._  


_2\. Will try to convince you that my cousin is a bad person (do not believe this, Yuki!!! Ju-chan is really kind, I promise. We should all have a slumber party sometime, actually, I think that would be really fun. Oh! We could have a tea party!)_  


_3\. Will get bored and leave after ten minutes, threatening you with physical harm should you tell the Director that he did so._  


_4\. Will play dirty because he doesn’t want to lose and pull your hair, or maybe spit in your eyes._  


_5\. Will say something really mean about your mom._  


_6\. Will..._  


And the list went on in on in Muku’s curly writing. Banri thought it was actually pretty funny. 

“Does that last one say that I’m going to expose myself as a demon and try to reap your soul before dropping you in the trash can?” he questioned. 

Yuki gave a bored shrug. “Meh. Muku’s still having trouble discerning the difference between his future sight and his paranoia. If we could skip all of that and just do what I want, that’d really help.” 

Banri sighed. There was no fun in being a dick if it made him predictable. “Fine.” 

Maybe he should begin studying Seer magic more in depth…

* * *

Yuki hit the ground and gasped for breath. 

“I _told_ you you need to keep yourself lower if you want to avoid getting flipped,” Banri snapped. “Christ, do you not fucking listen?” 

The brownie forced himself back onto his feet and wiped the sweat from his brow. He _hated_ feeling gross. “Dick.” 

Banri rolled his eyes and hooked his foot on Yuki’s ankle, giving it a firm pull and sending the brat careening back down. “Just because you’re small doesn’t give you an excuse to be a fucking pushover, Rurikawa.” 

Yuki clenched his jaw and got back up. “Again.” 

Banri drew a fist back. “Remember what I told you about deflecting with the forearm?” 

“Yeah, hurry it up.” 

Banri threw a punch. Yuki did what he’d been told to, jerked to the side and rammed his forearm against Banri’s elbow, trying to get the arm away. And he did it perfectly, he did, Banri’s arm just did not budge. 

“You’re weak,” Banri said flatly, dropping his arm of his own accord. “Rurikawa, there’s ’not as strong as others’ and then there’s lacking actual physical strength.” 

“Shut up,” Yuki muttered. “Why do you think I’m even trying to learn from you? I know I’m not the strongest person, I’m fourteen and I weigh less than a lamb. There’s only so much weight a glamour can add.” 

“You can’t give me a pile of dust and expect me to make bread with it.” Banri shook his head. “I’m out. This is pointless.” 

“Hey! You said you’d help.” 

Banri swept Yuki’s feet out from under him again. He looked down at the brownie with disdain. 

“There’s no helping you, pipsqueak,” he said bluntly. “You dress dope and can talk fast, I’ll give you that, but there’s no hope for you with fighting. Just ditch the Hyodo cousin and get yourself a big idiot pal to be your bodyguard.” 

Yuki’s entire face bloomed red. He pressed his lips together but whether from rage or to stop them from quivering, Banri couldn’t tell. 

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Yuki snarled, propping himself up on his elbows. “I need to be able to help myself. And if you can’t do it, admit that you’re worthless and stop wasting my time. I can find another person to teach me a few tricks.” 

Banri sighed through his nose. He leaned down and flipped Yuki onto his stomach using one hand. With the other, he grabbed the brownie’s wrist and twisted his arm back, putting weight into it. 

“OW— _OW, BANRI, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?_ ” 

“If you want to actually help yourself, maybe it’d be better for you to learn to watch your tongue,” he said, voice dangerously soft. He pushed Yuki’s arm further, just bordering the amount of force it’d take to pop it out of the socket. Yuki let out another agonized shriek. “Don’t pick fights you can’t win, Rurikawa. First lesson you _actually_ have to learn.” 

He let go and stood back up. 

Yuki rolled over and cradled his shoulder. He blinked to clear the tears in his eyes, glare unchanging. “Okay, hypocrite.” 

“Huh?” 

“Get out. I don’t need you at all.” 

Banri didn’t hesitate. He waved over his shoulder. “Dope, glad we’re on the same page.” 

Yuki lay on the training room floor and stared at the lights up ahead, willing the tears to stop. They did not listen. He hated being a brownie sometimes. He took in a shuddering breath and curled up smaller. Smaller and smaller, so small that no one would be able to hear him if he cried.

* * *

“Is the Director out again?” Tenma asked as he slid into an open seat at the dinner table. 

The new student, that brownie, turned away like the sheer sight of Tenma made him angry. Muku scolded him under his breath with a hushed “Yuki!” before shifting as well to continue icing the brownie’s shoulder. What had happened to him? 

Banri strolled in and Muku shot him a frightening look. 

Well, that answered it. Maybe not the specifics, but definitely Banri’s fault. 

“Muku, can you come help me spread the dinner?” Citron asked as he took off the lid of a giant pot. 

“Y-Yes, sir!” 

Tenma groaned. “Curry? Again? I thought if Omi was going to live with us, we’d have some variety.” 

“You’re used to people doing whatever you want, huh,” Yuki spat. “As expected." 

Tenma stiffened. “Excuse me? And what do you know—" 

Citron cut Tenma off by putting a plate of curry in front of him first. “Please no fighting! The Director, Omi, and Tsuzuru are gone and I do not want to deal with your prenanifans if I am by myself.” 

“Shenanigans, sir.” 

“Precardigans!” 

“ _Shenanigans,_ sir.” 

“Filly Americans?” 

Muku decided to stop trying. Sakuya arrived to the kitchen next, took one look around the room, and slid in between Yuki and Tenma like he could already sense the tension. Masumi was somehow there as well suddenly despite no one having seen him come in. Kazunari burst out of the lab, face glowing with a smile that stretched wide. 

“Banban, you’re a total stud to work with!” he cheered. “Gosh, can’t believe we made _that_ much progress in just one day. You’re totes a miracle worker, aren’t you?” 

The blessed boy scowled. “You guys were running in circles without me. It’s not praise coming from you.” 

“Haha! That’s so you, Banban.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

Tenma hesitated before saying, “You’re… not a part of the Coven too, right? Why are you here all the time?” 

Miyoshi just grinned and gave him a two-fingered salute. “My classes got cancelled! Thought I might as well stay here for the day to fill in for Tsuzuru while he’s gone. Really awesome and gentlemanly of me, right? I’m so cute!” 

…Right. 

Sakuya cleared his throat. “Citron, do you know why Director and Omi are out? Tsuzuru?” 

The Seer hummed as he put together another plate. He handed it to Muku who handed it to Yuki. “Tsuzuru said he has to help his mother with hand-free. The Director is on a book hunt and Omi went with her.” 

“Why didn’t she take me too,” Masumi muttered under his breath. “Always that… _Omi_ guy. I don’t trust him.” 

“Jesus Christ, stop being such a simp. She’s not going to fuck you, bro,” Banri said as he took the next plate. 

“You don’t know that.” 

Everyone in the room froze but no one spoke. Citron moved first, suddenly singing a wordless song very loudly like that would make the awkwardness fade. Misumi came in from the courtyard. 

“Monica’s fed!” he said cheerfully and sat by Kazunari. “She’s really starting to like it here! I’m glad.” 

Yuki frowned. “Who’s Monica?” 

Muku came over with Kazunari’s plate. “I met her today when you were in the training room! She’s—" 

His hand brushed the Caster’s.

* * *

Muku didn’t know how he could ever explain this. 

He was standing on a golden floor. Shiny, polished, pristine. And then— 

The floor shattered beneath his feet.

Muku fell past the window.

Kazunari was _not_ shallow, he realized as he fell and fell into the pitch black chasm. 

Kazunari was fake. 

Citron had told him that auras do not lie. Auras were genuine reflections of who a person is. Which meant Kazunari was a very glitzy and glam thin sheet of pretty over an endless, spiraling monstrosity. 

Muku crashed onto a floor but felt no damage from it. He looked around wildly. Filing cabinets, shelves. All in a deep pit where the sun would never dream of touching. Not a speck of dust in sight. Everything inside was too organized to be human. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

Muku let out a terrified squeak and scrambled in a semi-circle on his butt to get a look at who’d spoken. 

It was a boy, one that looked only a little older than Muku. He had Kazunari’s bright green eyes but shorter hair, colored as black as the shadows around the two. He was dressed in a school uniform, a gakuran with bronze buttons fastened all the way to the neck. 

_“Of course I had to go to Saint Flora’s,”_ Yuki had told him not too long ago. _“We’re the only school with a kind-of-okay uniform. Ugh, could you imagine me putting on something with just a single color? How boring_.” 

“W-Who are you?” Muku asked. 

Not-Kazunari’s face didn’t change. He looked down at the little clipboard he held in hand and made a striking motion with his pen. 

“I’ll have to compensate for this in the future,” Not-Kazunari muttered. “What a bother.” 

Muku’s mouth felt dry. He looked around again. Each cabinet was labelled. Each book on the shelves was organized by size and color. It was too immaculate, he couldn’t help but feel like this was what a computer’s soul would be like. 

Not-Kazunari clicked his pen. 

“It’s time for you to leave,” Not-Kazunari informed him. “Let us hope we never meet again.” 

“W-Wait—!” Muku reached a hand out. 

The odd clone flinched and stepped back from Muku’s outstretched fingers. His face finally betrayed an emotion. Pure and undiluted disgust. And it was as though someone had grabbed a fistful of Muku’s hair and shoved him face-first into a vat of boiling oil. The overwhelming rage, the _hatred_ , it seared his flesh until it hurt. He’d never known that a person could feel such hatred. 

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Not-Kazunari spat poisonously. “Repulsive." 

Not-Kazunari snapped his fingers and Muku shot into the air. He screamed as he went higher and higher, forcibly expelled from whatever hell he’d stumbled upon.

* * *

The plate shattered on the floor. Grains of rice and curry sauce splattered everywhere, drenching Muku’s socks. He fell next, landing on his butt so harshly he could feel his tailbone bruising. 

“Again?” Sakuya said with a hint of exasperation. “Come on, guys, we can’t keep breaking plates. The Director’s going to start investing in the paper ones and we need to be environmentally conscientious." 

“Sorry, Saku Saku,” Kazunari sang. He leaned down with a paper towel. “It’s alrighties, Muku. Totes my fault, I’ve got butter fingers sometimes! …Muku?” 

Muku couldn’t stop staring at Kazunari. At the golden shell around him, so perfect. So ignorable. Kazunari gave him a concerned grin. 

“You alright?” He held out his hand. “You, uh, you want help getting back up?” 

Muku stared at the palm. 

Then he stared back at Kazunari. 

“Muku?” Citron inquired. 

Muku wet his lips. He opened his mouth. 

“ _Liar_ ,” he said softly. 

No one in the kitchen spoke until Misumi giggled awkwardly. 

“Kazu, what did you lie about?” he asked, giving him a little poke to his cheek. “Lying isn’t good, you know.” 

Kazunari’s eyebrows were furrowed with what looked like genuine confusion. “I’m—I’m not really sure, Sumi. Muku, I’m really sorry if I lied to you about something but I have no idea you’re talking about, little dude.” 

Muku blinked once. Twice more. 

He suddenly recalled a time not too long ago when he’d seen the exact same uncomfortable smile that was on Kazunari’s mouth right now. On the mouth of his therapist as he listened to Muku ramble on and on about all the strange things he could see. That doubting, fake upturn of the lips that hid true thoughts, thoughts that Muku was a raving lunatic and that he deserved to be pitied. 

He hated that smile more than anything on this planet. If he told himself that he was psychotic, that he was delusional, if he said everything awful and doubting to himself first, then he wouldn’t have to suffer through that smile from others. 

Yuki had been right. 

This time, at least Muku knew he wasn’t crazy. And he had to convince everybody else that he wasn’t either. 

“Grab his hand, Citron,” Muku hissed. “You’ll see exactly what I mean, you can’t trust him." 

The older Seer stared at his apprentice and then turned to Kazunari. He held out his hand. 

“May I?” he asked. 

Kazunari swallowed and took the offered palm. Citron closed his eyes and no one dared to speak. 

He let go. “Nothing, Muku. I do not know what you are talking about.” 

The golden shell around Kazunari flashed like it was suddenly mocking Muku. _So you saw past it. No one will believe what you saw. No one will ever know so why would you even try?_

Muku shot off the floor and lunged for Kazunari, hands outstretched. 

“Muku!” Citron cried, grabbing him around the middle before he could make contact. 

“Dude, the fuck. Let him go, things are starting to get good,” Banri complained. 

A rare elbow-to-the-ribs from Sakuya shut him up. 

“He’s not shallow,” Muku panted, words difficult to force out as he felt the walls around the kitchen close in. He breathed heavily against Citron’s chest before struggling once more. “He’s not shallow, he’s _HOLLOW_. It’s not that he doesn’t have anything, it’s that he _has nothing._ He’s lying, he’s lying, _HE’S LYING!_ ” 

“Muku, calm down,” Citron demanded. “You are hyperbolicating!” 

“Hyperventilating,” Masumi corrected on instinct. 

Citron frowned. “Kazunari, leave the kitchen. Go sit in Tsuzuru’s room until the Director comes back.” 

“NO!” Muku screamed. “MAKE HIM LEAVE, YOU CAN’T TRUST HIM! HE’S A LIAR!” 

Kazunari got up from the dinner table. “Ahaha… Maybe it is a good idea if I just meet for now. I’m not sure what I did but it’s probably not good for me to stay here any longer if it bothers Mukkun, yeah?” 

“STOP TREATING ME LIKE I’M CRAZY,” Muku screeched. He shoved Citron towards the Caster. “Touch him! Touch him again and you’ll see! He’s a dirty liar, he’s just hiding it, he’s too good at hiding it!" 

“Don’t call Kazu a liar!” Misumi snapped as he got out of his chair as well. “He’s my friend. You’re… you’re being really mean to him right now, Muku, I don’t like that.” 

Masumi got up next when Muku began tearing at his hair in a frenzied panic. He grabbed the boy’s hands and forced them away from his scalp before more pink tufts could fall to their feet. 

“NO, HE’S NOT!” Muku bellowed at the top of his lungs, voice cracking from the sheer exertion of his vocal cords. “HE HATES YOU, HE HATES ALL OF US, _HE’S A HOLLOW LIAR!_ ” 

Misumi flinched like Muku had just slapped him across the face. He reared back, even angrier. “Kazu doesn’t hate me! Take that back, he said I’m his best friend!” 

“ _LIAR, LIAR, LIAR—_ “ 

The plates on the table started vibrating. Sparks flew from the tips of Misumi’s fingers before he curled them tight into fists. 

“Stop calling him a liar!” 

“HE HATES US!” 

“STOP IT!” 

Sakuya stood between the two of them. “Guys, please. Both of you need to calm down. Yelling back and forth isn’t going to fix anything.” 

“I want him out of here,” Muku said shakily. “We can’t _trust_ him. I bet—I bet he was the one who told the Mayor about the plan, I bet he’s the traitor. He can _lie_ and Citron can’t s-see. But I can, I’m a Firstborn, I saw it!” 

Citron put his hands on Tenma and Masumi’s shoulders. 

“Run,” he said in a low voice. “Go get the Director and Omi _now_. They are near the Plaza.” 

Masumi didn’t hesitate, jettisoning for the front door. Tenma looked too stunned to process what was going on until Citron gave him a jostle. 

“Tenma, please, we need her here,” the Seer hissed. 

“R… Right. Sorry.” Tenma swallowed and let magic flood into his lower body. He jetted off after Masumi. 

Their exit did little to derail the accusation. 

“Banri’s a bad person, Itaru’s a bad person,” Muku seethed. “At least they don’t hide it! At least they’ll admit to it and at least they can let us See that they’re awful—” 

“It’s true,” Banri said, munching on his dinner with the same bored half-interest he’d express at watching a soap opera re-run. 

“But YOU,” Muku continued, voice turning even more dangerous. "You’re worse than they are because you’re a liar!” 

Misumi stomped on the ground. “STOP YELLING AT KAZU!” 

Something in the air by Muku sparked. The boy let out a sharp screech as a small bolt of blue-tinted electricity struck his arm. 

And that was when the dining room truly burst into chaos. 

A black shadow hurtled into Misumi, coming from seemingly nowhere. Black claws held the Witch stapled to the wall, crushing his windpipe. 

Kazunari screeched, “IS THAT A _WRAITH?_ ” 

“ _How_ dare you,” Juza hissed as he squeezed the Witch’s throat harder. Misumi let out a panicked choke. “You _do not touch him_.” 

Banri dropped his fork. “Fuck yes, I’ve been waiting for this.” 

He threw himself at Juza, sending them both crashing to the floor. Misumi crumpled and struggled to get air back into his lungs properly. 

Yuki leaned down to where Muku lay motionless. Admittedly, the paralysis seemed more to be from shock than any other reason. The brownie slapped his friend a few times on the cheek, trying to get his eyes to focus. “Jesus Christ, Muku, come on. Get a grip on yourself." 

“It’s been a bit too long, Hyodo,” Banri said with a sneer as he straddled the wraith. He drove his fist down and _relished_ the feeling of familiar flesh beneath his knuckles. 

A taloned hand rammed itself against Banri’s skull like a backhand trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records. Banri did not know that, apparently, wraiths were much stronger than they had been when alive. But that was the only explanation for how the hit sent him flying into the fridge. 

Sakuya shrieked and hurried over. “B-Banri, are you okay? Oh, god, your head is bleeding. Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?” 

Banri shoved him aside. “Out of my way.” His ears rang with a high-pitched, tinny noise. _Fuck, another concussion? Are you kidding me?_ “HYODO, FIGHT ME, YOU BASTARD.” 

Kazunari crouched by Misumi’s side, rubbing his back. “Sumi, can you breathe?!” 

Juza approached the Witch and Caster. 

Kazunari immediately began cowering. “H-Hey, big guy, listen, listen, he’s down. _He’s down!_ Don’t hurt him any more, _please_.” 

“Move,” Juza snarled. 

His red irises flashed like little beacons of death. And then Banri’s foot caught him in the back of his head in a jump kick. 

“Ju-chan!” Muku screamed as Yuki finally managed to bring him back to coherency. “Stop it, Banri!” 

“Asshole,” Banri said nastily but with an undertone of hysterical euphoria. “I’m going to tear you to fucking pieces, Hyodo.” 

The only warning of what would come next came in the form of Citron wincing and reaching for his blindfold. Each stove in the kitchen exploded into a column of flame. Kazunari and Sakuya let out panicked caterwauls in unison as Itaru stormed in, headphones around his neck. 

“SHUT UP,” he thundered. “I AM _TRYING_ TO PLAY FORTNITE, WHAT IN HELLFIRE IS THE RACKET FOR?!” 

He clapped his hands once. 

Every single person in the room except for Misumi and Sakuya were suddenly grabbed around their ankles by an invisible force and hoisted into the air to stay suspended. Muku let out a frightened squeak and slapped his hands over his eyes, too petrified to speak or move with the demon in the room. 

“The fuck? Let me go, you jackass!” Banri swore angrily. 

Itaru clicked his tongue in disgust. “Witchling. Where is the halfblood.” 

It took a moment for Sakuya to find his voice. “M-Masumi and Tenma went off to get the Director.” 

The demon let out a bitter “hmph” and took a seat on the couch. “I guess we’ll all have to wait until she comes back.” 

“WHAT? YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE US UP HERE, YOU DIRTY MOTHERFUCKING—” 

“Shut up, blessed.” Itaru snapped his fingers and Banri went slack, completely unconscious. Blood continued to drip down from the small wound on his cheek from Juza’s attack, turning a streak of his hair rusty. 

Yuki sighed in relief. “Thank god, he was so loud.” 

“You can do that?” Sakuya whispered. 

Itaru just shrugged and stretched out like a cat. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up when the halfblood returns.” 

Citron let out a very tense laugh as he rubbed his temples. “Oh no, the blood is tossing to my head! I will be very dizzy when I am back on the floor.” 

“Sakuya, get me a snack,” Itaru commanded. 

“R-Right, of course!” He hesitated. “Can I get a bandage for Banri first?” 

He let out a tired sigh as he rolled over, trying to get comfortable on the couch cushions. “If you must.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can imagine how long I've been waiting for this chapter. Also, I'm really sorry I haven't been replying to the last few comments! I swear I've read every single one but I wasn't confident in my abilities to answer any of them without spoiling lol
> 
> Especially those comments that were like "hey i wonder if kazunari's aura is setting the plot up for something" LOL
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading as always! I'll be replying to comments for this chapter since the next will take 3-4 days.


	23. U R MY FRIEND :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izumi deals with the horrendous aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sprinkles ominous foreshadowing like salt
> 
> ALSO MORE ART!!! :D  
> This was anonymously submitted to my tumblr but I hope you guys care to check it out! It's absolutely fantastic and, yeah. The fact that people are taking time and effort to draw for this fic STILL leaves me boggled and infinitely grateful.
> 
> https://flavovitta.tumblr.com/post/624747187495190528/i-got-absolutely-wrecked-trying-to-read-ocaw-in
> 
> AND... YUKI IN MUKU'S BACKPACK FROM AO3 USER DARLINGTIMES (who tbh you should REALLY check out the fics of, they're one of my fave writers for a3!!)
> 
> https://twitter.com/darlingtimes/status/1287535666964729856/photo/1

“I really don’t understand the appeal.” 

Izumi pressed the book to her chest and gave a fluttering sigh. “It’s _because_ it’s trashy I like it, Omi! It’s completely unfiltered indulgent romance and requires, like, half a brain to read. What more could you ask for?” 

He frowned as he began reading the second copy’s blurb. “ _My Torrid Whirlwind Fling with Millionaire Vamp Jonathan_ … Director, is this what you look for in your own life?” 

“Oh, god no. This feels more on trend with Tsuzuru’s standards. Hmm, it _is_ on sale, maybe I’ll buy him a copy.” 

Omi shook his head. 

Izumi paid for both books and had a little hop in her step when she left the second-hand store. Another trashy romance novel for under a buck, the kids would be fed and winding down by the time she got back. Life was good. Maybe she would curl up with a glass of wine and a face mask and just have an entire night to relax. 

She spoke much too soon as a black blur hurtled into her side. 

“Director?!” Omi yelped as she went crashing and skidding on the ground. 

Izumi blinked away the stars from her vision only for Masumi’s horrified expression to come into focus. 

“I’m… I'm so sorry,” he whispered. He bolted off of her, jumping a whole two meters in the air in his hurry. 

Tenma was beside him in a flash, giving him a swift knock on the back of his head with his knuckles. “Dumbass! I told you you’re supposed to hit the brakes before you actually get there!” 

Izumi looked around frantically to make sure no one had seen him. 

“Are you two crazy?!” she hissed. “What—NO MAGIC IN PUBLIC! What if someone had seen you two?!” 

“Director, let me help you,” Omi said hurriedly, taking Izumi's arm. 

Her heart was pounding but less from the shock and more from sheer anger. “You better have a _fantastic_ excuse for doing something so irrational!” 

She wasn’t so optimistic that she’d stay blind to the fact that the Coven was on thin ice with Mayor Reni. If they got a report that a magic-less had caught sight of something suspicious because of her students, that would only be another red mark on their registration form. Masumi she could excuse because he was a student less than a season into his training, but Tenma? Tenma was supposed to keep his head on his shoulders. 

Masumi was staring at his shoes with an odd panic in his gaze. 

“Muku lost it,” the heir said finally when he realized Masumi wasn’t going to speak. 

“Excuse me?” 

Tenma shook his head. “Citron told us to get you as soon as possible. Muku… something happened. I’m not sure what. He dropped a plate and started screaming about how Kazunari was, was a liar? Things are really bad, Director, we need you back in the dorms as soon as possible.” 

She opened and closed her mouth, trying to put words together. Before she realized it, she was already walking and then jogging and then sprinting back in the direction of the dormitories. Sneakers smacked on the concrete behind her as the three boys caught up. Once they cleared the plaza, she took a quick look around to make sure the streets were deserted. 

“Omi, change _now_ ,” she snapped. 

Omi stiffened. He cast a quick glance to the boys beside them. “Director, do you think—" 

“The kids need me. This isn’t a matter of discussion, Fushimi, change NOW.” 

He didn’t need to be ordered twice. Omi shrugged his shirt off and tossed it towards Tenma’s direction. 

The Hunter blinked a few times as he caught the discarded garment. “Whaaaaaat is happening…?” 

The shift in form didn’t take much time, thankfully. Omi threw his body forward and hands turned to paws before they hit the street. Tenma stopped running entirely to gawk. 

“Is—you—?!” 

“KEEP UP,” was all Izumi could say as she swung a leg over Omi’s back and held onto the scruff of his neck. 

The werewolf bolted forward, crossing whole sections of streets in moments. Masumi didn’t question it but several seconds passed before Tenma could collect himself enough to follow. In one arm he held Omi’s shirt and in the other he held the pants that had been left behind. 

“A WEREWOLF?” he bellowed. “DIRECTOR, _A WEREWOLF?_ AND YOU JUST WEREN’T GOING TO TELL US?” 

“I’M TELLING YOU NOW, TENMA.” 

“ _I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU_.” 

Wind swept through her hair and made tears well in her eyes but the speed was welcomed. She ran the few pieces of information provided to her through her head once more. Muku had accused Kazunari of being a liar? Had he seen something? Citron should have been able to get everything under control then, what reason was there for the situation to become a problem? 

She wouldn’t have felt as worried, granted, if Tsuzuru had been there or if Banri _hadn’t_ been there. But with those two factors, Izumi got the feeling that things definitely had the chance to get out of hand. 

The Mankai Coven’s doors came into sight and she nudged Omi to park it outside. 

“We’re going to have a serious talk about the werewolf!” Tenma panted as he skidded to a stop as well. 

“AFTER.” She hopped off and stormed inside, ready to face all hell if she had to. 

That being said, Izumi had _not_ expected to see everybody hanging from the air by their feet. She gaped at the new human decorations and then turned her gaze to the demon on the couch. 

Itaru waggled his cheese-dust-coated fingers in her direction. “About time.” 

He popped another Cheeto into his mouth from the bowl Sakuya was holding for him. 

“Director, you’re back,” Sakuya said, all but melting in relief. 

“Oh! Hello, Director!” Citron said with forced joviality as he dangled. “I never understood the question ‘what is up’ but I do now. I am!” 

He chuckled in the very tense silence. 

She spotted Misumi lying on the carpet, eye closed and hands folded over his chest. 

“OH MY GOD, IS MISUMI—" 

“No,” Itaru said, cutting her meltdown short. 

Nevertheless, Izumi kneeled on the floor beside the Witch and rested her palm on his head. His one eye fluttered open and he looked at her in a very downhearted way. She brushed her fingertips against the bruises on his throat. 

“Oh, Misumi,” she whispered. “What happened?” 

His lower lip quivered. A gravelly whimper squeezed out of his mouth. 

“I don’t think he should talk, Director,” Sakuya whispered to her. “He, um… his throat. It’s kind of—we should let it rest for a bit.” 

Izumi nodded and ran her fingers through Misumi’s hair, hoping it would comfort him. He closed his eye again, chin wrinkled. In that moment, he looked so like a child trying very hard not to burst into tears. 

She rose and turned to the people in the air. The sight of Banri unconscious and with a bandage applied to his face, and Juza hanging in wraith form, began painting a picture she could understand vaguely. 

Citron was suddenly very grateful he had on a blindfold. From the way Yuki stiffened and Kazunari's quiet “yikes”, he could only assume a very terrifying expression had graced the Director’s face. 

“WHAT. HAPPENED.” 

No one spoke. 

She whirled towards Itaru. “Let them down.” 

He clapped his hands and they all went crashing onto their heads. Banri splayed limply on the floorboards, still out cold. The rest of them rubbed the slowly rising lumps and winced. 

Omi entered then, pulling his pants up. “Director, is there anything I can do?” 

“Keep an eye on them and make sure not even a hair moves,” she said harshly. She seized Citron’s hand and pulled him to his feet. 

“Director, please! I feel very skinny, the blood is in my head,” he complained. 

Izumi was not having it. She tapped Sakuya on his shoulder and gestured to her office. “I want a full debrief.” 

She threw a look over her shoulder. “IF I HEAR EVEN ONE NOISE. IF I KNOW A SINGLE ONE OF YOU BUDGED…” 

The unspoken threat was enough. Everyone immediately sat on the ground, Juza included. She slammed her office door behind her. 

“ _I was gone for half an hour!_ ” Izumi blustered. “Are you kidding me?! What happened!” 

Citron removed the blindfold from around his eyes and she quieted down at his solemn expression. They all took seats at the desk. 

“Muku says he saw something when he accidentally touched Kazunari’s hand. It was masoning enough that he had… an episode.” 

“Menacing,” “Jarring,” Sakuya and Izumi corrected in unison. 

The two of them exchanged looks. 

“I thought… I thought he said masoning but he meant menacing? The two of them sound similar,” Sakuya said quietly. 

“I thought he meant jarring because he mixed up the words in mason jar?” She waved her hand and dismissed it. “Not the point. What did _you_ see?” 

Citron grimaced. “Unfortunately, that is where the conflict comes from. I do not see anything from Kazunari. This… upset Muku. And Muku’s accusation made Misumi very angry and—oh, do not get mad at him, Director, he is a good child. He lost control of his magic and a stray bolt hit Muku’s arm—" 

Izumi couldn’t even get mad. She went straight to feeling an ulcer form in her stomach lining. She’d been gone for HALF AN HOUR, how had things gone so wrong? 

“Which summoned Juza. He was around the living room as a ghost, no one could see him. I suppose he changes to a wraith when he senses Muku is in danger… so he attacked Misumi and Banri.” Citron gave her an exhausted smile he obviously did not feel. 

“Banri tried to get Juza to fight him,” Sakuya said when he got the feeling that Citron would not be able to continue. “I think, I think Banri was trying to distract Juza from hurting Misumi some more? I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, Director, really, Banri is a good guy even if he doesn’t care to have others see him. Please don’t get mad at him either.” 

Izumi leaned back in her chair and rubbed her forehead. She so desperately wanted the brewing pressure to disperse. 

“I’m not mad at anybody,” she said finally to put Citron and Sakuya to rest. “I’m mad at myself for being _gone_. I should have been here to keep an eye on things.” 

“Director, it’s not your fault!” 

“Please, Director, do not take this onto your own shoulders.” 

“Omi was right and I keep forgetting that he’s right,” she continued. She gestured for Citron and Sakuya to sit at ease. “I keep thinking of you all as kids, which you are. But you’re all just so, so powerful and…” 

Izumi dragged her hand down her face and shook herself out of her thoughts. This wasn’t the time to be moping. Moping would _not_ fix the situation at hand. 

“And how did you end up in the air?” she asked. 

Citron chuckled. “Itaru came in. He was upset at the noise so he ended it very quickly by putting us up. He also knocked Banri out.” 

“I think you should check Banri for a concussion when you get the chance,” Sakuya added. 

Izumi sucked in a deep breath and let herself come to terms with the development. There were things they had to do. 

“Bring Muku and Kazunari in, Sakuya,” she ordered. “Have Masumi and Tenma put Banri on the couch. Tell Itaru I’ll thank him afterwards.” 

“Right!” the Witch said,  jumping out of his chair. He scurried off to do her bidding.

Izumi waited until the door was closed again before turning her look to Citron. The question on her face was obvious even if the man hadn’t been a Seer.

“I don’t know if it was real,” Citron murmured. “I don’t know if Muku actually saw something or if this was a fluke. It could have been a mix-up between the future and the aura, the _past_ and the aura. I could not see a thing he talked about.”

“What’s your take on Kazunari? Honestly, Citron. I would _love_ to give benefit of the doubt to everybody we know but if it means keeping the Coven safe, we have to make some hard decisions.”

Citron pressed his lips together in deep thought. “I do not see anything malevolent from Kazunari. Not a thing. He is appearance focused, and not the biggest thinker. Smart but not very, caring, and just desires to have a fun time. Make friends. There is not much to search for in him.”

“So why did Muku—?”

Someone knocked on the door. She sent a firm _we’re going to talk about this later_ thought in his direction and he nodded. The Seer stood from the chair, leaving both of them empty for the two boys that entered. Kazunari had the strangest look on his face, a blend of apologetic and confused. Muku…

Izumi’s heart hurt looking at him.

The poor boy looked like a wreck. His eyes were red and swollen from crying and rubbing, and his lips were puckered like he refused to sob any more in her presence. She’d never seen him look so angry before. Muku was usually so sweet and gentle and he never deserved to have that kind of expression. She’d seen him sit in the corner of his room on a beanbag, poring through his shoujo manga with an untouched bowl of rice crackers by his side.

A part of her wanted to just call the entire thing off and give him a hug, pat his hair. Tell him she was _sorry_ she hadn’t been there and that everything would be okay. But she wasn’t just a fond older person. Izumi was a teacher now and she had to run the Coven. Tsuzuru’s words from long ago came to mind.

“ _The more you try to spoil and spoon-feed them, the harder they’re going to be crushed by reality. You can’t protect them forever, Director. That’s not your role in the Coven._ ”

Ass.

She laced her fingers together. “Muku, I want you to tell me exactly what you saw.”

“Tell him to get out of the room,” the Seer said immediately, shooting a glare that dripped poison in Kazunari’s direction.

Kazunari just kept that small, sorry smile on his face.

Izumi considered it.

“No,” she said. “Kazunari will hear and he’ll either defend himself or admit to it. But I need to know what you saw first to react the way you did.”

Something in Muku’s eyes broke. His chin crinkled further and tears welled once more.

He took in a deep, shuddering breath through his nose and his knuckles went white as he curled them into tight fists.

“C-Can… Can I please have a _minute_ without him in the room,” Muku managed through gritted teeth that threatened a cracking jaw. “Please. P-Please? Just a minute without him.”

Izumi could recognize a tear-fest before it happened. She’d gone through enough of those herself. She gave Kazunari a raised eyebrow and he nodded.

“Sorry,” he said simply as he rose to leave. “Um, just… haha, let me know when you need me back in, I guess?”

He shut the door.

A soft squeak left Muku’s lungs. Crawled from his throat like he’d been choking it down until he couldn’t breathe. Then another. His shoulders trembled. And then the dam broke loose and he began sobbing hysterically.

“Please believe me,” he pleaded, spit dribbling from his mouth as he wailed. “P-Please, Director, you have to believe me, I’m n-n-not crazy, I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy, I swear. You h-have to b-b-believe me, Director. I c-can’t—I can’t feel like I’m c-crazy again, I…”

He bunched his sleeves into his palms and wiped wildly at his face. 

“I’m not crazy!” Muku wailed. “I’m not, I’m not, please don’t send me away, _please_ , Director. I’m not crazy, I’m a Seer, I swear, I’m not…” His chest heaved for air. “I’m not crazy!”

Fuck it, Tsuzuru could suck her dick.

Izumi got out of her chair and walked around the desk to kneel in front of Muku.

“Hey,” she said softly. She gently pried his hands away from his face. “Look at me, Muku.”

He cracked open one eye to stare at her.

Izumi squeezed his hands. “It must have been hard. I’m not going to pretend it hasn’t been, Muku.”

The boy let out another shattered mewl as his eyes flooded over. She wiped a stray tear away with the pad of her thumb.

“Magic is not an easy thing to have when you don’t know what it is. I agree, you’re not crazy. But you’re going to keep on seeing things other people can’t and you’re going to have to learn how to _explain_ those things.” She put a hand on his head. “The Coven isn’t here to throw you out the second you do something we don’t like. The Coven is here so you can learn how to never be called crazy ever again. I don’t have the vision and I won’t ever be able to understand how frustrating it’s been for you, but I can and I _will_ listen. You need to give me something to listen to.”

Muku curled forward and wiped his face on the hem of his shirt. He hiccuped for a few more moments but seemed to calm down.

“Can I have a hug before you call Kazunari in?” he whispered. “I really… I _really_ need a hug right now and I don’t want you to call my parents.”

“Yeah, you can have a hug.” She wrapped her arms around him and give the Seer a tight, single squeeze. “You think you can explain what you saw clearly?”

Blue eyes flashed with a fiery and, frankly, uncomfortably bitter determination.

“Yes,” he said firmly.

Izumi went back to her place. Nodded in Citron’s direction.

Muku began as soon as Kazunari sat in his chair once more.

“Mister Citron told me that sometimes, when you touch someone, you can see their aura more clearly,” Muku began. “When I gave Kazunari his dinner plate tonight, I brushed his hand. Mister Citron and I were talking about auras earlier and we both agreed on what Kazunari’s was. It’s shiny, and gold, and hard like glass. Or metal. Auras—a lot of them have texture and movement but Kazunari’s was like some kind of egg.”

Kazunari’s tiny smile grew. He gave a playful shimmy in his chair. “Dang, Mukkun, you’re making me sound limited edition!”

No one commented. The Caster’s shoulders drooped. “Sorry.”

“Mister Citron told me that it meant Kazunari was just a shallow person,” Muku said.

“Not a bad thing!” Citron jumped in as he gave Kazunari a quick and contrite peek. “I simply assumed you were a very carefree person who wants to enjoy life.”

Kazunari swallowed and shrugged. “I mean… ha. Kind of, yeah. Here for a good time and all.” His finger gun fired and then went slack to rest on his thigh.

“Then I touched him and…” Muku’s brow furrowed. His mouth worked. “It was like I was standing on his aura and fell through. There was something under it, it was like—It was like the shallow end of a pool just. Broke. And there was something creepy and dark under it. And Kazunari was there, and he said… Something. Like ‘you shouldn’t be here.’ And it was _weird_ , there were cabinets and shelves and i-it was a really scary library.”

He rubbed his eyes as a wave of shame overwhelmed him. Muku was caught in-between wanting to cry again and just laugh. He sounded crazy even to _himself_.

“And you saw nothing when you touched him?” Izumi prompted Citron.

“Just the normal, Director.”

Muku’s hands clenched again.

Izumi leaned back in her chair as her eyes unfocused. “But Muku’s a Firstborn, yeah?”

“…Yes, Director.”

“What are the chances he can See things you can’t?”

Citron hesitated.

“Honestly, Citron.”

“The chance is there,” he finally admitted. “At his level of training, it is hard to believe but the chance is there.”

“He hates us,” Muku said, breaking the short quiet. “That’s—that’s why I was so… It was scary. There’s _so much hate_ inside of him, Director. I thought—I thought I was going to die. It was like being burned alive.”

The young Seer shivered like just recalling the event was uncomfortable. Izumi’s eyes flickered over to watch Kazunari’s reaction to this. The Caster’s face didn’t flinch. He looked gloomy but not beside himself.

“And what do you have to say to that, Kazunari?” she asked.

Kazunari shrugged. “I… I don’t really know what to say, Director. I don’t want to cause any problems. I don’t hate you guys, seriously.”

“LIAR!”

“Muku,” she snapped.

The boy immediately quieted although he seemed very agitated.

"The Coven’s dope as heck and you guys are some of the most fun peeps I’ve met in ever.” Kazunari opened his palms like he was hoping he could manifest the truth for her to lay eyes on. “I wish… I wish there was something I could do but there isn’t. All I can do is tell you that I’m not someone you have to worry about.”

Izumi turned to Citron.

“Not a flicker,” he said softly.

Muku’s jaw clenched so hard a vein stuck out. But he remained quiet.

“Citron, can you take Muku back to the living room?” she asked.

“Yes, Director.”

The two Seers left.

Izumi looked Kazunari up and down. At his dyed blonde hair with the blackening roots peeking at the top. His paler-than-normal face. The odd way he was still and quiet, so different from normal where energy seemed to vibrate in the very air around him.

“A week suspension,” she said finally.

Kazunari’s eyelids fluttered as he stared at the Director. “Um… huh?”

“You don’t step into the Coven for a week,” Izumi repeated. “This is to put Muku at ease more than anything else. I believe him, you know. That there’s something going on in you. But I believe you when you say that you don’t want to do anything bad to the Coven. Whatever creepy library you have inside of your golden egg or whatever, Christ, I’ll never understand what goes on for Seers, that’s none of our business.”

Kazunari continued staring.

“Does that work for you?” she asked.

Kazunari’s head eventually bobbed in a nod. “Yeah… Yeah. Okay, Director. One week.”

“You’ll miss Masumi’s birthday party but you can either mail your present or bring it when you return.” Izumi rose from her chair and reached out a hand.

Kazunari took the palm to shake it and yelped when Izumi yanked him close.

“Listen to me very, very carefully, Kazunari,” Izumi said so softly that no one in the hallway would be able to hear her. “I meant every word when I said I believed you but let me make one thing blindingly clear. This Coven is home to a lot of boys who desperately need one and I will tear apart anything that threatens that for them. Got it?”

Kazunari swallowed dryly. “Yes, Director.”

* * *

Kazunari grabbed his hat from the living room.

“Banban, mister big wraith,” he said with weak cheer. “Cutie Director called you in next.”

Banri, roused just a few minutes prior, groaned. “Are you fucking kidding me? Now I get to be chewed out?"

“Hundred… yen,” Misumi rasped.

“Not if she didn’t hear it,” Banri snapped as he got to his feet. He swooned a little as his eyes went cross. “Holy shit, if I get another fucking concussion I swear to god I’m bringing somebody to court. I don’t care who it is.”

“Ano… ther… two hundred.”

Banri took out his wallet and threw a 500 coin at the Witch. “Fuck you sideways, you motherfucker.”

Misumi smiled weakly as he took the coin and pocketed it. “…Yay.”

Juza trudged after Banri into the Director’s office. The door didn’t even shut the entire way before her “ _ARE YOU TWO ABSOLUTELY_ **_KIDDING_** _ME?_ ” shook the building.

“Kazu,” Misumi wheezed as he sat up. “Where…?”

“Your bad boy got suspended, Sumi Sumi,” Kazunari said with a downcast smile. “I’ll be out of your hair for a week. Ah man, Tsuzuroon’s going to totes yell at me about this. You think he’s gonna tell my dad? Sure hope not.”

Misumi got up. “Let me… walk you.”

“Dude, no, you’ve gotta rest.”

“Let me.”

Kazunari swallowed and dropped the fine. “Right.”

The Witch and the Caster walked side by side into the night street. It took two streets in complete silence before Kazunari stopped and took in a deep breath.

“Sumi. You probably want an explanation.”

Misumi kept walking. “Nope.”

“Ah?” Kazunari cut his monologue short to catch up. “You don’t?”

“I don’t.”

“Huh.” Kazunari laced his fingers behind his head. “Wow.”

Misumi suddenly turned around and smushed Kazunari’s cheeks until his lips puckered up. “Kazu. Do you… remember… when we… met?”

“Mmf?”

Misumi smiled gently, eyes soft but glowing. “You spent… two hours. Trying to… make me… laugh.”

“Smmf, stffp tmmkng, mfff humftt muff frmmt.” (Sumi, stop talking, you’ll hurt your throat.)

“No one… ever tried to…” His voice cracked. Misumi frowned and rubbed the welts on his neck. “Make me… laugh like that, before. No one… called me… their best friend before.”

Kazunari stared at the Witch with wide eyes.

Misumi gently took one of Kazunari’s hands, maneuvering it until the index finger pointed out. Kazunari hesitated but then let a spark of magic out to Rune write. It took a little bit of coordination but Misumi began writing in the air between them slowly.

_U R MY FRIEND :)_

_TRUST U_

Misumi dropped Kazunari’s hand and the two of them watched the green letters fade into nothing. Kazunari swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Thanks, Sumi,” he said finally. 

Misumi threw himself into Kazunari’s arms and gave him a hug that squeezed the air out of him.

“Go… triangle hunting… with me tomorrow,” Misumi rasped out. “Need to find… present. For Masumi.”

Kazunari cradled the back of Misumi’s head to his shoulder. “Yeah. Promise. I’ll meet you at the dump after classes.”

“Y… ay!”

Misumi tore himself away and shot a blinding smile at Kazunari. Then he ambled back to the dorms like nothing at all had happened.

Kazunari watched him go.

When the Witch rounded the corner, the small smile fell flat off the Caster's face. He turned back to his path and bitterly refitted the hat on his head.

* * *

“YOU THOUGHT FIGHTING HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF MUKU’S BREAKDOWN WAS A GOOD IDEA? REALLY? WHAT WENT THROUGH YOUR HEAD? DID ANYTHING GO THROUGH YOUR HEAD AT ALL?”

Izumi jabbed a finger in Juza’s direction.

“And YOU!”

The wraith winced and grew smaller in the chair.

“YOU _ATTACKED_ ONE OF MY STUDENTS?”

Neither of the boys spoke. She slammed her hands on the desk.

“WELL?”

Juza squirmed. “He hurt Muku.”

“It was a static shock! The same would have happened if I rubbed my socks on carpet and decided to give Muku a high-five, would you have come after me next, Juza?!”

“…I couldn’t help it.”

She was not having it. “YOU BETTER LEARN HOW TO IN THE FUTURE. I let you stay here because Muku was willing to vouch for you, DON’T make me scrutinize you any further. Never again, unless Muku is in _explicit_ danger, you will not attack anybody else. You either diffuse the situation or wait for me to get there, UNDERSTAND?”

The wraith ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

Izumi choked. _Ma’am_. She was twenty four and being called ma’am. Whatever, that was something she could die over when the setting was less tense.

She turned her attention back to Banri. “ _SETTSU_.”

He clicked his tongue and looked away. “What. Cauliflower?”

“YOU _WISH_ CAULIFLOWER.” Izumi caught her breath. “I’m going to go to bed tonight and think about your punishment. You’re not going to come back to the Coven for three days.”

“You’re _suspending_ me?” Banri drawled. “That a good idea? Letting me loose into the world without proper guidance even though I know magic now? Not the smartest move.”

Izumi’s face suddenly felt very cold. She sat on her chair and leaned forward. “Banri. I know you did not just threaten me.”

He didn’t say a word.

“Why don’t you try again?” she said, smiling.

Banri shrugged. “Whatever. I’m here to punch Hyodo in the face and it’s not like I ever kept that secret.”

“Hm.” That was true. Izumi turned to Juza. “Alright. Juza, you’re suspended for three days.”

Juza nodded. “Okay.”

“WHAT?” Banri snapped, shooting out of his chair. “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, _pray_ tell me why not. I am ALL EARS, Banri. Make my night, just make it.”

“You…” He ground his teeth. “Hyodo’s not gonna fu—freaking listen. He’s going to sneak in and make sure his cousin or whatever is safe. He’s a ghost, you can’t do sh—jack.”

“Hm,” she said again. “Juza?”

“I’m not going to get Muku in trouble,” the wraith said gruffly.

“There you have it.” Izumi tapped her desk once and smiled serenely once more as Banri’s face just about shattered into a million pieces. “You act out again and I’ll let our ghost friend here loose into the wide world for however long I have to. Do as much ghost, necromancy, whatever research you care about. None of it will matter if you can’t find Juza, right? And the only way _to_ find him will be through the Coven.”

Banri sat down in his chair again, lip pressed into a very thin line.

“Nothing to add then?” Izumi said. “Great! I _won't_ be seeing you tomorrow then. Both of you’ll be back for Masumi’s birthday and not a moment before.”

The wraith nodded only once.

Banri suddenly shot up again and kicked his chair over. “Fuck this, I’m going home.”

“Leave a coin,” Izumi called after him as he stormed out.

“SHOVE THE COIN,” he bellowed and slammed the door shut so hard, it rattled on its hinges. 

Izumi sighed. That boy was a piece of work.

Juza cleared his throat. “Um. I’ll go now.”

“I’ll trust you to reflect on what happened while you take your time off,” she warned.

“…Yeah.”

He phased through the wall and disappeared.

* * *

Last but not least.

Izumi knocked on Itaru’s door and slipped in.

“Heard you dealt with the problem really well while I was out,” she began in the dim room.

Itaru held up his hand to silence her. Half a minute passed until he was at a comfortable enough spot in his game to pause it. He swiveled around in his chair and crossed his legs, looking very bored.

“Correct,” he said and shot her a skeezy, appropriately demonic grin that showed off his fangs. “What handsome reward do you have for me this time, halfblood? Your body, perhaps?”

Izumi raised an eyebrow. “You can’t possibly be interested. I know you.”

Itaru chuckled. “Got me there. I do want to try a candy though. Someone on my D&D campaign mentioned pop rocks and I am utterly fascinated. Order an entire case for me.”

“Actually, I had another reward in mind."

Itaru bristled as Izumi wrapped her arms around him.

“What in the bleeding fires of hell are you doing?” he snapped.

“Hugging you.”

“Stop that.”

“Everyone needs a hug every now and then.”

He mulled over her words. Against her shoulder, he said, “I could kill you right now. No one would even find your body.”

Izumi just laughed. “I’m sure you could.” She hugged him a little tighter. “You did good, goat boy. You did good. Thank you."

* * *

"I still want pop rocks."

"Yeah, I figured. I'll put in an order on Amazon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original first draft of this chapter ended up a LOT longer so I decided to cut off at the end of the night. Expect another update either tomorrow or the day after. This is just like... a bandage for the last mini-explosion ( ^^ ; )
> 
> Also, Omi's werewolf thing is a VERY odd piece of storytelling that completely escaped the outline. I can justify a werewolf slipping out pants mid transformation, but definitely not a shirt. So I guess Omi's just going to have to take it off every time he turns into a wolf. A grave I dug for myself...
> 
> Final note, not gonna lie, did end up tearing up a bit when I had to write Muku's sobfest. Writing Muku is emotionally exhausting lol.


	24. Strawberry Keychain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was made abundantly clear to me that last chapter was, in fact, NOT a bandage chapter and for that I am sorry. Also, thank you to everybody for not only reading but sending in full dissertations and theories about Kazunari, they made me smile.
> 
> AND... I linked this in the last chapter notes but i'm linking it again. Please look at darlingtimes's art of brownie Yuki in Muku's backpack, this really gave me the serotonin needed to finish this chapter
> 
> https://twitter.com/darlingtimes/status/1287535666964729856/photo/1

Tsuzuru arrived back early the next morning. After an entire evening of helping his mother fold half a department store's worth of clothes, being stuck in a lab with magithetical sounded like heaven. Seeing his brothers again had been nice but there was nothing like a strict, nagging catholic mother that made him adore having someplace new to crash at.

It was seven but, upon entering the living room, no one seemed to be awake and about. Which was odd. 

Tsuzuru knocked on the Director’s door. “Director? You up?” 

No response. Had they all gone on some overnight trip while he was gone? He opened the door and popped his head in. “Director?” 

Omi propped himself up on his elbows at the intrusion and blinked blearily. “Ah. Tsuzuru, you’re back. Do you want something to eat?” 

Tsuzuru gawked. 

Izumi rolled over and cracked open one eye. She shot up. “Oh my god! Tsuzuru! You’re back—IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE." 

He stared point blank at Omi’s bare chest and then back at the Director. Something very odd settled over his face. 

Omi checked something under the blanket. “Ah. Apologies, Director. I must have switched back last night, let me put on my pants.” 

Tsuzuru actually collapsed against the doorframe like his knees couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Omi,” Tsuzuru began slowly sounding choked. “Do you mind if I have a private word with the Director?” 

He smiled and got off of the bed, sweatpants now on. He dipped to grab his discarded shirt. “No problem. We must have slept in, I’ll go get the rice started.” 

Tsuzuru shut the door as Omi left and casted a quick Silencer over it. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, putting both hands on Izumi’s shoulders. “Director, I apologize for the coarse language but you’ll have to forgive me. I’m a little… stunned right now so I might not be very eloquent.” 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Izumi tried again desperately. 

He began shaking her. “YOU’RE FUCKING OMI?” 

“NO! NO! I AM NOT FUCKING—GET OFF OF ME!” 

“WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME YOU WERE FUCKING OMI?” 

“I’M NOT FUCKING OMI, YOU FREAK, STOP SHAKING ME!” 

Tsuzuru did not stop shaking her. “OH MY GOD, WHEN DID YOU GUYS START DATING?” 

“WE’RE NOT DATING, TSUZURU!” 

“ _FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? DIRECTOR!_ ” Tsuzuru finally let her go to clench fistfuls of his own hair. “What is wrong with you! Tie that down as fast as you can!” 

“What—?” 

“HAVE YOU NOT SEEN HIS JAWLINE!” Tsuzuru screamed. “ON THE TEN POINT SCALE, OMI IS A SOLID _ELEVEN_. TIE! THAT! DOWN! MAKE IT OFFICIAL! Are you stupid, Director? OH MY LORD! Get married as soon as possible! Your children could end up a solid eight!” 

“I’m! Not! Fucking! Omi!” Izumi yelled, clapping at each word to drive it into Tsuzuru’s head. She paused and did the math. Eight? Times two would be sixteen. Minus eleven… “Hold on! When did I become a five?! I thought you said I was a six!” 

“THAT IS NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW!” 

She grabbed her pillow and threw it at his face. “HE’S A WEREWOLF!” 

Tsuzuru threw it right back. “I DON’T CARE, YOU—excuse me?” 

“He’s a _werewolf_ , Tsuzuru!” Izumi snapped. “The kids found out yesterday so I’m sorry you’re late to the news but that’s what happens when you’re gone for a night!” 

The Caster’s jaw dropped. 

“But then why was he sleeping in your bed?!” he cried, rousing himself out of the shock. 

Izumi put her face in her hands. “Because I happened to rub Fido’s tummy, and apparently that makes a temporary bond and Omi gets really sad if I leave him alone for a night! So he sleeps in my bed as Fido but sometimes he switches back in the mornings when he’s sleeping. It is _nothing more_ than that, you absolute nut job! It is simply a _werewolf_ thing!” 

“Omi’s Fido?” Tsuzuru gasped. “Omi’s a _werewolf?_ Does Sakyo know?" 

“Yes. To both of those questions.” 

He wiped his mouth and looked pensive. “Okay, so I have a few more inquiries about the werewolf business. Especially the tummy rub issue because I’ve never heard of that before and it sounds weird. But to be clear… you’re not dating Omi?” 

“No! I’m not!” 

“WHY?” Tsuzuru yelled. “DATE HIM!” 

“I HATE YOU!" 

He tossed his hands into the air. “Is there anything _else_ that happened in the twelve hours I was gone?” 

Izumi let out a gentle _oof_. “Yes.” 

“Well?!” 

“Kazunari’s suspsended for a week. Juza and Banri are both suspended for three days.” 

Tsuruzu somehow managed to look even more surprised. He turned away to stare at Izumi’s wall. 

“You know that time I asked you if I could quit?” he said suddenly. “How’s that notice of resignation going?” 

She slapped his back. “Rejected. You’re my number two, you know that.” 

Tsuzuru sighed. “Why did Kazunari get suspended?” 

Izumi filled Tsuzuru in on the general series of events. Muku’s alleged meltdown, his accusation, Kazunari’s lack of defense except stating that he would not be a problem for the Coven, and the final punishment she’d set on him. 

“You know anything about what Muku might have seen…?” Izumi prompted at his silence. 

Tsuzuru shook his head. “Honestly, no. Kazunari’s always been a airhead and I’ve had the suspicion he was only acting dumb for a while now. I can imagine just about anybody being secretly evil but that’s just my own cynicism. On my list of ‘people who might kill me in my sleep’, he ranks probably the lowest.” 

“You think I was too harsh?” 

“Hm. No.” Tsuzuru crossed his legs on her bed and put his chin in his hands. “He’s not a part of the Coven officially so it’s not like you left him to the streets. It’s not like you suspended Kazunari, it’s more like you wanted to set distance between him and Muku. He’s a people person, he’ll get it.” He glanced at her from the side. “You’re going to have to get Muku under control.” 

“I know,” she whispered. “The kid has a problem with flying into panic mode. I don’t know how to fix that.” 

“We’ll think of something. The, uh, Banri thing?” 

“They had a fight.” Izumi shivered. “Juza apparently attacked Misumi.” 

“You’re kidding. He okay?” 

She nodded. “Small healing spell and resting. He bruised his throat but otherwise he’ll be fine and dandy.” 

Tsuzuru flopped onto his back and kissed his teeth at her ceiling. “This Coven is such a pain in the ass. How was Itaru without me?” 

“He seems fine as long as either you or Misumi are nearby.” Izumi leaned forward and gave him a little pat on his forehead. Tsuzuru had gotten back not even half an hour ago but he was already revving up to help her out. What a reliable guy, even if he did make her want to tear her hair out. 

“Good.” Suddenly, he shot up and glared at her. “Hold on! You got rid of _both_ of my helpers?! Do you hate me, Director?" 

“Tsuzuru, this is not about you.” 

“IT SURE FEELS LIKE IT." 

Izumi pursed her lips and walloped his face with a pillow again. She took the compliment back.

* * *

“Hey!” Sakuya panted. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I told you not to leave without me.” 

Masumi didn’t even look at him. Just continued walking in the wrong direction. Sakuya nabbed the end of Masumi’s jacket. 

“Come _on_ , Masumi, we’re going to be late!” Sakuya urged as he pulled Masumi along. “There’s no time to go off somewhere random today." 

Masumi clicked his tongue sharply. “I’m allowed to be late for my own birthday party.” 

Sakuya froze and turned around, eyes wide. “W-What? What birthday party? Birthday—I don’t even know what that is.” 

Masumi gave him a very long look. 

“How did you find out?!” Sakuya cried. “We tried so hard to keep it secret! We didn’t even talk about it out loud, we passed around notes for like two weeks!” 

“Yeah. I found the notes you left the demon.” Masumi sat on a curb and put his school bag between his feet, only to lean his face on his knee. “I don’t want to go.” 

Sakuya hesitantly sat beside him. “Masumi, what’s wrong? You’ve been pretty out of it for a while.” 

Masumi didn’t say anything until his upperclassman gave his shoulder a light jostle. 

“I hit her,” he said softly. 

“…Who? The Director? Why?” 

“I crashed into her at the plaza.” Masumi’s face was always on the mopey side but Sakuya couldn’t recall a time when he’d looked so genuinely downtrodden. “I think she scraped her elbows because of me.” 

Sakuya frowned. “But it wasn’t on purpose, right? You’re a new Hunter, you can’t expect to be totally in control.” 

Heck, Tenma had been training for years and even he'd confessed to losing a grip on magic every now and then. Usually in the form of broken cups or accidentally tearing through the sole of a shoe. All things considered, Masumi probably boasted the lowest Broken Dish count amongst the Coven members so far. 

Masumi’s head slipped even lower, head cradled between his two knees. Sakuya rubbed his back. 

“You want to talk about it?” 

Masumi stayed silent. 

Sakuya leaned back on his hands. “The Director’s great, isn’t she? She’s only twenty-four but she has her act together. I think that’s really admirable. You know, when I met her for the first time back in February, she told me that I’d be capable of a lot more than her. But I think she was wrong. The Director might not have a lot of magic but she has a lot of other things that I wish I did." 

Masumi didn’t say a word. Sakuya took this as a sign to continue. He scooted closer until he could knock his knee against Masumi’s. 

“Masumi, can I ask what you like about the Director?” he asked. 

“Everything,” the boy replied immediately. 

“Specifics?” 

Masumi frowned. He lifted his head slightly to stare at the horizon, where the sun was nearing the trees. “I liked the way she smiled at you when you brought me over.” 

Sakuya grinned. “I like the way she smiles too.” 

The two boys sat in silence. 

“Happy birthday,” Sakuya said gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it to you earlier but we wanted to act like we’d forgotten. So you could be all happy when you walked in and we all yelled ‘surprise!’” 

“You’re all terrible at acting. Director and Citron both said happy birthday to me this morning on accident. I don’t think they realized.” Masumi sighed deeply, spine slowly growing less tense. “She doesn’t notice me. She… probably hates me now because I hurt her." 

“Mm?” 

“You get to have lessons with her all the time. She doesn’t even look at me. She just tells me to learn with the nagging orange guy.” 

“His name is Tenma, Masumi. Learn his name, he bought us drinks and snacks.” 

“Whatever.” 

Quiet. Sakuya suddenly laughed and ruffled Masumi’s hair. He batted the hand away with a glower. 

“Quit it.” 

“I can’t help it, you usually look all cool and aloof so it’s nice to see you like this sometimes!” Sakuya’s laughs pattered out but his smile stayed. “The Director doesn’t hate you, don’t be silly. And you know the only reason she does that is because Tenma’s a Hunter and she can’t teach you the magic she wants you to learn.” 

“So? I don’t care about magic.” He picked up a stray rock and squeezed it. Magic spread like heated oil on his skin and the rock broke into pieces. He let the shards slip out between his fingers. “It doesn’t do much. I just want to spend time with her.” 

“That’s no good, Masumi!” Sakuya scolded. “Magic is amazing.” 

The younger boy scowled. “How?” 

“It made us closer friends, didn’t it?” 

Masumi paused. He suddenly didn’t feel like looking at Sakuya anymore. “Whatever. You’re annoying.” 

Sakuya burst out laughing again and hopped to his feet. He grabbed Masumi’s hand and hauled him up as well. “Let’s go home. You’ll apologize to the Director and we’ll eat cake and open presents. Everything will be okay again.” 

The two finally began walking again. 

“What presents did you want to get?” Sakuya asked. “We already got yours but a lot of us really struggled with them. You can be so mysterious.” 

Masumi frowned. “…Dunno.” 

“Eh? What did you get last year?” 

“Headphones.” 

Sakuya blinked and tapped a finger to the white pair around Masumi’s neck. “Those?” 

“No. These are from Christmas.” 

“Eh?” 

Masumi shrugged. “I get headphones as presents. I collect them.” 

“Oh! That’s cool.” Sakuya slung his bag over his shoulder. “I used to collect stamps when I was younger. And I think Banri mentioned something about how he collects sneakers. When did you start?” 

Masumi blinked. 

_ Masumi kneeled on the ground and started scissoring open the package.  _

_ A box of headphones emerged from the packing peanuts. He slipped them out and spent a minute admiring the sleek design. Exactly what he’d asked for.  _

_ He looked around the empty, quiet house. It felt too quiet. He placed his headphones on his ears and linked the bluetooth to his phone. He turned his playlist on and sat on the floor, enjoying the sound.  _

“First year of middle school,” he said finally. 

The two approached the dorms. Sakuya took out his key to unlock it and the sound caused a stir inside. 

“ _They’re here! Quick! Turn the lights off!_ ” 

“ _I told you we should have gotten ready in advance._ ” 

“ _Shut up, I’m not going to sit around a dark room for half an hour just waiting for them to get here!_ ” 

“ _Is the cake ready? Is the cake ready?!_ ” 

Masumi’s lips twitched. Sakuya gave him an apologetic look over his shoulder and opened the door. The two slipped their shoes off and entered the dark room. The lights flicked on. 

“SURPRISE!” everybody yelled, hopping up from different nooks and crannies of the joined living room and kitchen. 

Citron and Tsuzuru both popped their party crackers. Tenma struggled a bit with his own, looking very confused with the mechanics, until Muku helped him with it. Confetti and streamers rained down on the two high schoolers. 

“So useless,” Yuki muttered. 

“H-Hey! I’ve never done this before!" 

Sakuya jumped away to also throw his hands into the air, joining the others in Masumi's celebration. “Surprise!” 

Masumi took his headphones off from around his neck and placed them on the nearest surface. He forced his lips down into a scowl. “You guys suck at this.” 

Misumi leaped forward and smacked a sticker onto Masumi’s forehead. “Triangle sticker! For the birthday boy." 

“Happy seventeenth, kiddo,” Izumi said and corralled him into the head chair like she'd done for Sakuya earlier that month. “Omi, light the candles! Alright, everybody, we start singing on three. One… Two… Three!” 

“Wait,” he said, cutting all of them off. “I need to say something first. I... I’m sorry.” 

Izumi made a face. “What did you do? I swear to god, Masumi, if I get another note from your teacher about you listening to music in the middle of class, I’m going to be so upset with you.” 

“For hitting you,” Masumi said quietly. 

The living room went into uproar.

Tenma looked horrified. "DUDE, NOT COOL!"

“Mother of the Lord, you _hit_ the Director?” Tsuzuru asked. “That is NOT what gender equality is about, Masumi, shame on you.” 

Izumi scoured her memories in a frenzy. “You hit me? When?” 

Masumi’s face twitched. “During the… I crashed. You banged your elbows. I’m sorry about that.” 

Oh. Izumi smiled and ruffled his hair. “You’re silly. I accept the apology. Is that why you’ve been so moody lately?” 

He leaned into her touch. “I love you.” 

Izumi drew her hand away. “Aaaaand it got weird. Thin ice, Masumi.” 

“Will you marry me for my birthday? Or at least wait for me?” 

Izumi clapped loudly again. “MOVING ON BECAUSE IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY! One! Two! Three!"

_ "Haaaaappy birthday to you..." _

And thus, March drew to a close.

* * *

Muku’s knees knocked together. “Y-Yuki, do you think this is a good idea?” 

“It’s the only idea,” the brownie snapped, feet spread. “You’re going to do what I told you, right?” 

“I’ll try but… but I’m a little scared.” 

“ _Relax_ , your cousin is terrifying. You must have some of those genes.” Yuki threw a punch. 

Muku shrieked, seized Yuki’s forearm, and hauled him over his hunched back. Yuki flipped over Muku’s shoulder. The brownie hit the floor and sprawled out, choking for air.

“Muku, what the hell!” he cried when collected.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! it’s the only self defense move I learned from Toughing Up Tots, Self Defense For Young’Uns!” 

“Toughing up _huh?_ ” 

Muku wiped his eyes. “It was a self defense class my mom enrolled me in when I was seven but the only thing I learned was how to flip people!” 

“Well, don’t flip _me_!” 

“It’s reflex, Yuki!” 

The door to the training room opened. Tenma blinked at the sight of the Seer apologizing to the brownie on the ground. 

“Uh, the Director said it’s my turn to use the training room,” he said slowly. 

Yuki sat up and turned around so his back faced the Hunter. Once again refusing to even make eye contact with him. 

“What are you guys doing?” Tenma asked. 

Muku touched the tips of his index fingers together, nervous. “Um… Yuki said he wanted my help for learning how to fight. I'm completely useless though, I can't help him at all. I'm so pathetic. I'm the spottiest apple in the farmer's market bin.” 

“Don’t _talk_ to him!” Yuki snapped. 

Tenma blinked. “Why are you trying to learn how to fight?” 

Yuki’s fingers curled into fists. He suddenly got up and stormed over, jabbing his finger into Tenma’s chest. 

“What,” he snarled up at the boy more than half a foot taller. “You think brownies shouldn’t learn how to? Huh? Exactly what I’d expect from a Sumeragi, you classist jerk.” 

Tenma flinched like he’d been slapped across the face. He squared his shoulders and refused to back down. “What is your _problem_ with me? I don’t even know who you are but all you’ve done since you showed up one day was try to pick a fight.” 

“My _problem_ is that your Bloodline might as well be the poster child for unfairness towards mythics!” Yuki snapped. “I might be a part of the Coven now and the Director might have told me not to be mean to you—" 

“She said what?!” 

“But my opinion won’t change. You and your family have done _nothing_ but set a terrible standard for how mythics should be treated. You—you are the worst and the fact that nobody’s calling your family out on it makes me so angry. But I don’t have to talk to you any more than absolutely necessary so I’m not going to. Stay out of my way and I’m sure both of us will be happy.” 

Tenma flushed a bright red. “What are you even talking about? A terrible standard?” 

“You don’t even PAY your house spirits!” Yuki bellowed. 

Muku swallowed nervously and tried to pull Yuki away. “I think that’s enough…” 

Yuki shoved his hand off of his shoulder. “Stay out of this!” 

“The house spirits never asked to be paid, that’s not how it _works_ ,” Tenma shot back. “We give them contracts, we give them room and board. My family’s respected every single house spirit tradition, the—the milk platters, the wine, honeycomb, we set up altars for each and every one of them.” 

Yuki’s laugh was shrill and grating. “Are you fucking stupid? Are you really, _really_ trying to tell me. A _brownie_. How it WORKS? That’s how it worked centuries ago, you absolute… HACK! That’s how it ‘worked' when domestic mythics didn’t have access to fucking society, when we didn’t have glamours, or access to basic human education, it’s when half of us were still living in trees and living to age thirty max!” 

Tenma opened and closed his mouth. His brow furrowed further. “You’re not making any sense. House spirits don’t ask for that kind of thing.” 

“THE HOUSE SPIRITS,” Yuki roared, roughly shoving the hell of his hand into Tenma’s chest and forcing him to stumble back a step, “OF THE SUMERAGI ESTATE DON’T EVEN _KNOW_ THAT THEY CAN ASK FOR MORE. None of them even leave your goddamned property, they don’t even know how things have changed! You’ve _brainwashed_ every mythic family into serving yours for YEARS without letting them be their own people! The only reason why they consider those traditions to be traditions at all is because you’ve convinced them that it is!” 

“No, we haven’t!” 

"Because your entire Bloodline is founded on keeping them estranged from modern times! Your entire fortune is from _our_ labor, and _our_ sacrifices.” 

“That’s not _true_!” 

“ _YES, IT IS!_ ” Yuki’s face had gone completely purple in his rage. “YES! IT IS! Your great-great-whatever-grandfather? How did he even get his fortune? Where did your name even come from, huh? THINK!” 

Tenma’s jaw clenched. Through gritted teeth, he spat out, “The Sumeragi Firstborn _slayed_ a dragon terrorizing a village." 

Yuki smacked the back of one hand against the other palm. “FORTUNE, SUMERAGI. WHERE DID YOUR _FORTUNE_ COME FROM.” 

“Wh—The dragon’s gold! It had a hoard, that’s not something new! Dragons have gold!” 

Muku’s eyes flickered back and forth between them as he grew more and more anxious. He desperately wanted to go running for the Director to diffuse the growing aggression but Tenma was blocking the way out of the room. 

“And how did you _keep_ it,” Yuki hissed. “How did your family go _so_ many generations of tending land, keeping the house. How did the Sumeragi Bloodline never have to spend a dime once they bought a house except on luxuries?” 

Tenma blinked again.

Muku winced when he saw Tenma’s entire fiery aura flicker and die down. The blood drained from the Hunter’s face. 

Yuki raised his chin. “That’s what I thought. I don’t want you to talk to me at all. If Banri isn’t going to teach me how to fight, then I’m going to learn on my own because I would rather _die_ than take anything from you. Ever.” 

Muku could almost see the static in Tenma’s mind and he was pretty sure he didn’t need to be a Seer to do so. The heir had completely surpassed “flummoxed” to enter a state of near catatonic reflection. 

“I…” Tenma wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Um. Even still. You can’t—there’s no point in you learning how to fight.” 

Yuki swelled up. “Screwyou!” 

“I’m not saying that because I’m pissed off! I'm saying this because it's literally anatomical, brownies have next to no muscle mass and they can’t use their magic outside of a building!” Tenma said, holding up his hands. “You can’t learn how to fight the way a Hunter would. It’s _biologically_ impossible.” 

“Great! Because I’d rather swallow a fistful of needles than fight the way a Hunter—!” Yuki suddenly stopped. 

His hands dropped to his side. 

“Yuki?” Muku whispered. 

Yuki covered his mouth with a hand and looked oddly like he'd just connected a few dots.

“Muku,” he said suddenly. “Come to my room. I need you to help me with something.” 

“Oh! Okay!” 

Yuki shoved the Hunter aside. “Watch your back, Sumeragi. I am going to rip you apart one day.” 

Tenma watched the two of them scurry down the hall. He pursed his lips and felt something uncomfortable settle over his chest. He rubbed the ache away. 

… _Your entire fortune is from our labor, and our sacrifices._

* * *

Citron looked up from where he sat in the courtyard. Someone was on the balcony, talking. 

“Hey, mom?” 

Tenma, he mused. 

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. But I had a really important question and I thought I should call about it. I didn’t really know how to put it on a text.” 

Citron got up to leave. This was probably not something he should eavesdrop on. 

“Mom, why don’t we pay our house spirits?” 

Citron stopped. His curiosity got the better of him and he stuck around a bit longer. Chances were he’d be finding out anyways the next time he and the Hunter made eye contact. 

“…Yeah, yeah, I know. But… like. What if they asked for wages? I mean, we have a lot of money, don’t we? We could probably pay them if they asked. …No, no, it’s just—someone said something to me and I got curious.” 

Even from all the way down where he stood, Citron could hear a high-pitched, at ease laugh coming from Tenma’s phone. 

“Mom, come on, I’m serious. Times have changed, a lot of mythics wear glamours now. If we started, um, paying them. Then they wouldn’t have to stay on the estate all the time. They could go out and, and buy things I guess? I don’t know.” 

“…But if they _did_ want it?” 

“Yeah. Okay. Sorry for bothering you. See you later. Thanks for sending me pictures. Love you too.” 

Citron glanced up at the sound of feet walking back inside. He hummed. That’d been interesting. Very interesting.

* * *

Omi poked his head into the entryway. “You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah, emergency snack run,” Izumi grumbled. So much of the budget was drained just by trying to stock up on chips and candy. Itaru could be such a pain to tend to. 

“Can I come with?” 

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said the distance thing becomes less of a problem as time passes.” 

His smile went a little smaller. “It does. But I still miss you when you leave the house.” 

They’d been working on getting Omi less irrationally attached and bonded. Sleeping in the same bed had slowly drifted to sleeping on opposite sides of the room (where Fido would snuggle on top of a sleeping bag). Less time spent side by side in the dorms. The first time Izumi had gone out on her own and forced the werewolf to stay behind, she’d come back only to see Omi sitting on the entryway’s floor _very_ depressed. 

_ “What did you do while I was gone?” she’d asked, slipping off her shoes.  _

_ He’d taken her purse and brought her to the kitchen for apple slices. “Wait for you to get back.”  _

“That’s very sweet, Omi,” she said gently. 

“I miss you a lot when you’re not around.” He gave her those puppy dog eye that would have made a volcano melt. “It doesn’t feel right without you here." 

She checked her phone. Matsukawa'd just texted her the unfunniest meme she’d ever seen in her life. “Thank you, Omi. But might as well get you used to it bit by bit, right? I’m sure you don’t want to be forcred to stick around me for the rest of your life.” 

Omi scratched the back of his head and flushed. “I wouldn’t mind, honestly." 

“Uh huh.” 

Belly rubs. Never again. The poor guy didn’t even know what he was talking about. 

“Can I have a hug before you go?” Omi keened. 

“ _Omi_ , we talked about this.” 

He rubbed his face. “Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s…” 

“Instinct,” she finished. “I know, I know. That’s what we’re trying to fix. I’ll be back in an hour or two, yeah? Get the boys something to eat when they come back.” 

Omi waved as she set off. He let out a heavy sigh and tried not to just sit there, just waiting for Izumi again.

* * *

“Director!” 

She looked behind her and was surprised to see Sakuya running after her. 

“Hey, kiddo,” she said. “Aren’t you supposed to be in drama club?" 

He gave her a shy grin. “I had a small accident with a bucket during cleaning hour. They sent me home early because they were mad." 

Sounded about right. She loved Sakuya, really, she did, but it would take a blind man to argue that he wasn’t a bit of a klutz 

“Do you need help with your bags?” Sakuya asked. 

Izumi hefted the groceries, testing the weight of them. “No, it should be fine. Wanna walk back to the dorms with me?” 

“Ah, let me help you with them, Director! Really." 

She snorted. “You’re sweet, kiddo. Say, I've got some money to spare. Let’s grab something to eat. We haven’t been able to spend time outside of lessons lately and I feel bad about it.” 

Sakuya chuckled. “Things haven’t really been able to calm down after the break in, huh?” 

“You know it.” 

The two stopped by the nearest coffee shop. She stacked the bags on a vacant table and popped open her wallet. 

“You want anything?” she asked. 

Sakuya hesitated. “Can I get their chocolate croissant?” 

“Sure. Drink?” 

He picked a can of soda from the displayed stack. Izumi got an extra-vanilla cappuccino. 

“Would you like to try the lottery?” the barista asked her. “Only an extra hundred yen for a spin!" 

Izumi glanced at her student. “Why don’t you try?” 

Sakuya stilled. “Can I?” 

“Sure.” She tossed him a coin. “Good luck!” 

Sakuya handed over the money and leaned forward to give the little lottery machine handle a spin. From the hole, a small silver ball dropped out. 

The barista picked up a small bell and rang it. “Congratulations! You won our D prize.” 

She handed a small plastic-wrapped keychain in the shape of a strawberry over. Sakuya curled his fingers over it and bowed his head quickly. 

“Thank you!” 

The two returned to their table, spoils in hand. 

“How has school been?” Izumi asked after a sip. “Balancing lessons and classes must be tough but I hope you’re not slipping.” 

Sakuya laughed awkwardly. “They’re fine. I’ve been getting my homework in and my mock exam scores aren’t bad.” 

“Good!” 

Silence again, but the comfortable kind. Sakuya cracked open his soda and slurped, before tearing off a chunk of the chocolate croissant. 

“Omi’s been settling in really well,” he said eventually. “I’m glad. The Coven feels a lot fuller with him around.” 

Izumi snorted. “Yeah, well, thank god he likes us. It would have been a disaster if he decided to tell the Council.” 

“I don’t really like the Council.” 

“I don’t think any of us do, kiddo.” 

Sakuya suddenly went somber. “Director… I’m nervous about the quest. We’ve only really got a month left before it now. Do you think I’m ready?” 

“What? Of course I do!” she exclaimed. “You’re fantastic, Sakuya. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise, you’re really going to show Reni just how much of a talented little Witch you are. Then maybe he’ll finally leave us alone but that’s hopeful thinking." 

Sakuya reached out and put his hand over hers. His fingers were lightly trembling. “Director, if… if I don’t pass the test—" 

“Nope,” she said. “That’s not a thought we’re even going to consider." 

“But…” 

She flipped her palm over and squeezed his hand until his fingers stopped shaking. Sakuya’s face grew more conflicted. “You remember what I told you before, right? No buts. I don’t doubt your abilities for even a second and neither should you. And you know what? Even if you don’t pass the test, I couldn’t care less, Sakuya. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come in the time I’ve known you. As long as you grow up to be happy and doing what you love, that’s all I care about. I’m not just the person who runs the Coven, I’m someone who wants to watch you bloom as a magician.” 

Sakuya bit his lower lip and squeezed her hand back. “Okay. Thank you, Director.” 

“I know it can be scary to have so much on the line but don’t freak out. Eighteen or not, you’re still pretty much a kid and you should be allowed to be a kid. That means the responsibility to do well,” here she pointed at him, then her, “is on me as your teacher and not you as a student.” 

“Am I a good Witch?” 

“Best Witch I know. Don’t tell Misumi I said that.” Izumi rolled her eyes. "Actually, you know what, go ahead. That kid’s skipped every single lesson for the past few days to go hang out with Kazunari.” 

Sakuya nodded silently. 

“You need a hug?” Izumi asked. 

Sakuya rubbed his eyes. “I can have a hug?” 

“Yeah. You can have a hug.” She folded her arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze. “You’ll be fine, Sakuya. I promise.” 

Sakuya rested his head on her shoulder. “…Thank you, Director. Do you mind if I have some time to myself? I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.” 

“Sure!” Izumi picked up her bags again. “I’m heading back. See you later then, don’t come home too late.” 

“I won’t.” 

Sakuya waited until the Director left the coffee shop. 

His stomach hurt so badly. 

He fished his phone out of his pocket and pressed the speed-dial. 

“ _Hello?_ ” 

He ran his thumb over the keychain still in its plastic wrap. “Hello, Mayor Reni.” 

“ _Did everything go according to plan?_ ” 

Sakuya squeezed his eyes shut and ignored the way his heart lurched. “Yes, Mayor." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW IT WAS A LOT BUT I SWEAR ON MY GRAVE THE QUESTIONS WILL GET ANSWERED, I'M SORRY, I SWEAR I'M NOT JUST DOING THIS TO HURT YOU. THERE IS A BLUEPRINT!
> 
> Next chapter might take a bit longer since it is a doozy, just in terms of length and the content. Like... buckle in. Next chapter goes WILD. Woo.


	25. Tenma's Never Had McDonalds Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good LORD did the comments go absolutely nuts last chapter. I did not expect that much!!! of a reaction but I'm glad it was there. It singlehandedly had me pull it together to get this chapter out. Which, thank god, because this one was a NIGHTMARE to write.
> 
> General content warnings for this chapter:
> 
> Underaged smoking, Banri being insensitive as per usual about the whole Dead thing, violence.

Banri glanced at the analog clock on his bedside table. 2:30 AM. 

Perfect. His parents should _definitely_ be asleep by now. 

He slid out of bed and groped around underneath it for the box he’d received in the mail earlier that day. Luckily, before either of his parents had come home or else some questions would have been asked. He’d had no idea that animal bones were so difficult to acquire nowadays. 

“You can sell me another _goat liver_ but not bones?” he’d asked the butcher from the last shop. 

Who’d given him a very strange look in return. “Kid, what is your problem?” 

“My problem is that you’re not giving me what I’m willing to shell out cash for, you dick!” 

“…Please leave my store.” 

Good thing the internet was always an option. 

He removed the delicately screwed together rabbit skeleton. Without the ears, it was difficult to tell what it was. The authenticity on the other hand... Well, it was either real or an immaculate replica. Only one way to tell. 

With a stick of chalk, he began drawing a small circle around the pile of bones. If the full spell from last time had risen an entire graveyard, he could probably cut back on most of the needed elements. He sprinkled a pinch of gun power on one section, and a sliver of goat liver in the other. He pricked his finger with the nearest safety pin and let blood splatter on the floorboards. 

Banri crossed his legs and ran through his thoughts one more time. 

If he had to guess, another reason why the necromancy had gone so poorly the last time was because he’d used Witch magic. Total overkill, really. And so… lacking in finesse. What he needed for true necromancy would be delicate skill. So Runes, Banri figured, would be the way to go. Magic circles were relatively Witch magic, that much he knew, but he was blessed. It’d work for him. 

Bogus that the Director’s library didn’t have a book on illegal Runes. He’d checked. And Reddit had been a bust as well. He’d continue looking and for now, he’d consider this just a test run. 

_Move. Search. Reject-Sensory-Overload-Border. Curl._ On and on, Banri scribbled Rune after Rune onto the small and delicate bones of the rabbit’s skeleton. Purple light glowed in the darkness of his room as it flowed from the tip of his finger. 

“ _Novis mortem,_ ” Banri whispered, flicking his wrist when he finished the sequence. 

The Runes flashed brightly and disappeared. The gun powder dribbled away into nothingness and so did the drying spot of his blood. 

He watched. 

The rabbit’s bottom quivered first. Its haunches reared back and the rabbit hopped onto its four skeletal feet. Paws? Whatever. 

“Can you hear me?” Banri asked the rabbit. 

The rabbit hopped away to under his bed. Banri sighed and leaned back on his hands. He supposed it would be a little overly hopeful to think the rabbit would be able to understand. The thing couldn’t have understood him when he was alive, let alone now when it literally lacked a brain. 

He glanced at the goat liver that remained untouched. Well, at least the bloodlust seemed to have gone away. That was at least one improvement. 

“You’re not supposed to do that.” 

Banri managed to muffle his swear before it could escape into the room. He glanced at the window where a ghost sat close to. 

“Why the _fuck_ are you here?” Banri snapped. 

Juza didn’t speak. 

“Hey! I asked you a fuckin’ question, asshole!” 

“Nowhere else to go.” Juza shrugged. “Uh… Coven’s asleep. Didn’t want to bother them… Came over to see if you were awake.” 

Banri glanced at the clock. 3 AM. Of course. The only person who’d be awake at this time would be that corpse-hoarding nerd. Banri made soft clicking noises with his tongue and waggled his fingers under the bed to coax the rabbit back out. It detached itself from curiously inspecting a dirty sock to bound towards Banri. 

“Why?” Juza asked. 

Banri set the rabbit on his lap and threw a look at him. “Why what?” 

“…Why are you doing black magic?” 

Banri scoffed and scratched rabbit gently underneath its chin. “I already told you. I’m going to bring your ugly mug back to life so I can beat the shit out of you once and for all. Die afterwards for all I care but you are _not_ pussy-ing out like this.” 

“Okay.” 

Banri paused and then continued scratching the rabbit. Fingernail against bone felt weird but the rabbit seemed to be enjoying it. Or at least feigning enjoyment. “You alright with that?” 

“…Yeah.” 

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Hyodo, why is having a conversation with you so damn hard? Would it kill you to graduate from monosyllabic communication?” 

Juza’s face twitched. “No.” 

Banri got off the floor like he meant to wham his fist into the ghost’s face. Then he remembered that the ghost was, like the first time, just a ghost. So he sank back to the ground. “Don’t you have anything better to do than haunt me?” 

“Settsu. I’m dead. I can’t do much.” 

“Oh, word.” 

Banri rubbed his eye and wondered if it would be worth it to go to sleep. Yesterday was Sunday so there wasn’t anything in particular he had to wake up for, but at the same time he kind of wanted to pop into the Coven. There was also something in him that knew… just knew that arriving late had a 30% chance of walking into a situation he so desperately did not need in his life. They were always such a mess. 

Yeah. He’d go to the Coven bright and early. All-nighter it was. 

He let the rabbit loose again and went rummaging through his closet. His prized wall of sneakers greeted him. Inside of the neon yellow-cheetah print ones were a plastic baggy sealed cigarette box and a lighter. 

“Hyodo, I’m going for a smoke,” he said. “Coming with? Or staying here like a fuckin’ creep.” 

Juza stuck his hands in his pockets and drifted towards the window as an answer. So… downgrade to zero-syllabic, then. What a dick. Banri opened the window and began climbing down the tree. 

“What do you do all day when we can’t see you?” he asked, dropping to the ground. 

Juza hesitated. “Not… much. Sometimes I just go to the park.” 

“Like a creepy old man? The fuck, Hyodo.” 

“Settsu. I’m seventeen.” 

“Yeah, okay, creepy teen then. Yeesh.” Banri waited until they were down the street to take out a cigarette. He quickly lit the end and let it dangle from his lips, taking a half-hearted drag here and there. 

Juza wrinkled his nose. “Those give you cancer.” 

“…Yeah, that doesn’t really hit the same way when I’m the one still living between us.” 

“Ass.” 

“Dickhead.” 

Banri came to a split in the road and wondered where he should wander. Weekend nights were never good to head to the skatepark, that’s when the freaky, self-destructive emos congregated to smoke pot. The graveyard—yeah, no. 

“You go to the park at night?” he asked. 

Juza shook his head. 

“Park, then.” 

“I like the dogs,” Juza said as he floated by his side. 

Banri hummed and took another drag. Ashed off as he strolled. “Me too. Want one when I’m older.” 

“Same.” Juza made an odd sound. Like a sigh, but cut off. “Or. Did.” 

They spent the rest of the night in general silence.

* * *

Yuki had underestimated how difficult it would be to pick up a box when his arms were sore. But that’s what happened when you spent every spare minute doing push-ups, and then _still_ trying to make some time to sew a new project. 

“Ah, Rurikawa. Do you need help with that?” someone asked him. 

He glanced over his shoulder at the offering classmate. Shimada, a stout, quiet kind of guy with an unfortunate bowl cut he’d look much cuter without. 

“Thanks,” he said simply and moved aside for Shimada to take the box in his stead. “We’re supposed to take it to the labs.” 

“Got it.” 

They walked in silence. Yuki generally chose to stick to himself in school; friends kind of hurt to make and then lose when he couldn’t invite them over or stay the night at their place and, inevitably, drifted away from. But he knew the people in his class somewhat. Enough to tell that Shimada looked worse for wear than the usual. The hair in his eyes was normal (re: aforementioned unfortunate bowl cut) but the boy was… skittish. And worn out. It was only ten in the morning. 

“You alright?” Yuki asked. 

Shimada sighed. “I had a rough night but I’ll live.” 

They rounded a corner and Yuki caught sight of a familiar head of candy floss. 

He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “Hey, Muku.” 

His friend turned and brightened when he caught sight of Yuki. He bounded over, a hop to his step and looking better than he had in days. 

“Hey!” Muku said warmly. He glanced at Shimada and gave him another smile. “Takeo, right? I’m Muku Sakisaka from the other class, nice to meet you!” 

“Nice to meet you too.” 

Muku held out his hands. “I’ll grab that if you’re okay with it. There was something I wanted to talk to Yuki about so this is a good time.” 

“Sure.” Shimada handed the box of test sheets over and his fingers brushed against Muku’s.

* * *

Izumi rubbed her forehead. “Explain this to me again? I don’t get it.” 

“Well, he’s a genius, Director,” Tsuzuru told her as he pointed to the TV screen. “The entire show is based off the premise that because he’s so intelligent, he’s bored with life so he and his grandson get into all sorts of random, sci-fi hijinks.” 

“But why is he a pickle?” 

Omi chuckled at their conversation behind him as he continued dicing vegetables. 

The sliding glass door to the courtyard slammed open with a loud crash. Citron ran in, face slack with grief. 

“Director,” he croaked. 

Izumi pushed Tsuzuru’s head off her lap and rose from the cushion. “What’s wrong? Did you see something?” 

“…We have to go to Saint Flora’s.” 

Tsuzuru furrowed his brow, struggling to sit up properly. “Muku and Yuki?” 

Citron’s expression went darker. “Muku.” 

Like it’d been waiting for the cue, Izumi’s phone rang. 

“Hello?” 

“ _Director, come NOW. Please.”_

“Yuki? What happened?” 

“ _Muku lost it again but it—his name is Takeo Shimada. Director, you have to come here now. Bring your ID and the guardianship forms to see him in the infirmary, I—they’re sending me back to class but I snuck into the bathroom to call you. I don’t have any more time. NOW!_ ” 

And with that, Yuki hung up, offering no other information. But did Izumi really need it? Citron was already putting his shoes on in the entryway. 

“Keep watch over the Coven,” she hissed at Tsuzuru and Omi. “I’ll text you when I know what time I can be back by." 

The two nodded but she’d already headed for her office. She rifled through Muku’s file for his forms, nabbed her purse from her bedroom, and started running after Citron through the streets.

* * *

“Name, please?” the primly dressed secretary asked. 

Saint Flora’s entire academy gave off a very _off_ vibe. Built more from wood than stone and with crosses nailed to the wall every few feet, it felt strange to think it was a school and not a church. The entire building reeked of lavender and balsa, normally two calming smells but intimidating at such concentration. 

Izumi held out her ID and the crumpled packet of paper Muku’s parents had signed. “I’m Izumi Tachibana, Muku Sakisaka’s tutor at his cram school for Gifted Youths. These are his parents’ signatures, it allows me to act as an emergency contact.” 

The secretary accepted the file and began flipping through it. “His parents had already been contacted and they’re on their way.” 

“We are concerned about one of our charges, madam,” Citron said, lightly elbowing Izumi to the side to toss the secretary a charming smile. “We received the call from his parents to check in as we are nearer to the school.” 

The secretary flushed at Citron’s warm, honey-dripping words and stood up. “Alright. Please follow me. The headmaster will demand a conversation afterwards but Sakisaka is right at the sickroom.” 

The halls were deserted and utterly quiet, save for the noise of the secretary’s heels clicking on the linoleum flooring. Izumi shivered and hoped whatever it was, it wasn’t that bad. 

“He’s right in here,” she said, gesturing to two tall wooden doors. “I’ll have to let the headmaster and his parents know you’ve arrived. If you’ll excuse me…” 

Citron waited until the woman was gone to let his smile break. He pushed open the doors and entered, Izumi right behind him. 

Muku looked up from where he sat on the edge of a small bed. Izumi’s heart ached. 

“Oh, Muku,” she whispered, rushing forward. 

She took his chin in her hand and turned his head slowly to inspect the damage. A nasty bruise was smeared all over the upper right of his face, covering his eye and a portion of his forehead. Disinfectant and vaseline coated a large tear in his lip. He shirked away from her touch after a moment like he was too ashamed to have her look at the wounds any further. 

“What happened?” Izumi asked. 

Muku struggled to speak. Izumi couldn’t tell if it was from pain or from actual hesitance. 

“Director. Let me.” 

She glanced at Citron who’s face was still so strange and atypical from the norm. She nodded slowly and stepped to the side. 

Citron kneeled in front of his student. “Muku.” 

Muku took in a deep breath and let out a single, dry sob before clamping his mouth shut. Citron refused to back down from the unspoken question. 

“I…” Muku shuddered. “Hurt. Someone wanted to hurt Yuki. And—” 

“Did someone threaten Yuki?” Citron said softly. 

He scrubbed his eyes and _vibrated_ from the stress. “N-No, sir. I… saw. T-Touched his hand by a-accident and I saw it.” 

Silence fell over them. 

“It was bad,” Muku added in a small, broken voice before curling up. He drew his knees to his face. “It was so, so, so bad, mister Citron. It was—it… I’ve _never,_ in my entire life, could have—I wanted to vomit when I, I still want to throw up, it scared me so, so..." 

“Show me what you saw,” Citron commanded. 

Muku shook his head frantically, no sounds coming from his mouth. He trembled harder. Citron refused to be ignored. 

“Muku, that was not a request,” he said darkly. “ _Show me what you saw._ ” 

Muku swallowed thickly and cracked open one eye. Izumi watched as both of the Seers’ eyes flashed, glowing identical luminescent blues for a split second. 

Citron took in a sharp breath. “Oh… oh.” 

Izumi nudged his shoulder. “What was it?” 

Quiet. 

“Not something I think one should say out loud, Director,” Citron said finally. He gave her a sad look. “Perhaps selfishly? Not one I wish you to know." 

That was… 

Citron stood back on his feet. “Where is the boy? Please show me to him.” 

Muku gagged and reached out to grasp his teacher’s shirt. “No, n-no. Please don’t, mister Citron, please.” 

“Show me to the boy.” 

“You’re going to think I’m bad,” Muku cried, covering his face with two fists. “You don’t _get it_ —” 

“Enough.” 

Izumi flinched. In all the months she’d known him, she had never, not even once, heard Citron’s voice go so cold and unfeeling. 

Muku’s shaking got worse. He pointed slowly to the cot on the other side of the infirmary, sectioned off with a curtain. Citron swept off and Izumi, after just an instant’s hesitation, followed. Citron moved the curtain aside and grimaced. 

Izumi slapped a hand over her mouth to hold back the horrified gasp. 

A young boy, the same age as Muku and Yuki, lay unconscious on the rickety mattress. His face was completely swollen, red and shiny and puffed in some parts, black and blue in others. Flecks of rust covered all over the lower half of his face from a poorly cleaned up nosebleed. Four deep lacerations on his cheek betrayed a nasty swipe from clawed fingers. His black hair was plastered to his head in something dried and murky. 

Izumi’s gaze flickered towards Muku who was curled up once more, trying to block the world out from happening around him. 

That small, kind hearted angel had…? 

Citron kneeled by the cot and placed his hand on Takeo’s forehead. He closed his eyes and— 

He crossed the room once more to strike Muku on the side of his head. A firm, harsh hit with an open palm. Izumi shrieked. 

“You stupid, _stupid_ boy,” he spat. 

Muku’s eyes had never gone so wide. Even the tears stopped as he froze up and stared at the elder Seer who'd just beaten him. 

Izumi grabbed his arm roughly. “Are you insane?! Citron, we do not hit the students!” 

He shoved her aside like she hadn’t even spoken. Izumi stumbled and tripped, hitting the ground with her thigh. 

“He was not going to do ANYTHING!” Citron roared. “It was just a thought! Muku, how could you? How could you do something so evil?!” 

Muku kept staring at him. His mouth opened ever so slightly but no sound came out. 

Citron raised his hand again. Izumi shot up and barreled into his side, seizing his wrist and wrenching the arm back down. 

“WE DO NOT HIT CHILDREN, CITRON,” she bellowed. “NO!” 

He whipped his face towards her and Izumi’s heart stopped beating. His eyes were—teary. Wet and glazed over. It was the first time she’d seen him look so… broken. 

“That little boy who Muku just… mauled,” Citron seethed, each word ringing hot, “was _never_ going to hurt anyone. He is not cruel, he is _sick_ , Director. He thinks of things he cannot help and Muku punished him simply for _being_ _sick_. And you wish to excuse that?” 

Izumi struggled to find the words through the white noise that filled her mind. “I…” 

“Seers can see everything and we cannot block it out.” He shook her hand off of him. His chest heaved for air as he struggled to calm himself. “We learn to look away. We _must_ learn to look away. We cannot… hurt people for thinking. It is not their choice, just as it is not our choice to see them, and Muku. He, he gave a punishment onto someone already being punished.” 

Izumi couldn’t speak. 

“Director,” Citron tried again, voice quivering. His lips twitched like he would rather die than have the language barrier impede him. “You had nightmare before?” 

“…Yes.” 

“Every night, you have a nightmare. And every day, you see nightmares every time you close your eyes, and think about them every moment you have them open.” Citron lifted a weary hand towards Takeo’s curtain. “That is what that boy goes through. And that is what Muku attacked him for. Muku is in the wrong here. He is wholly and entirely in the wrong.” 

She glanced at Muku. His complexion was steadily turning from white to an ashy gray. 

“We do not hit the students, Citron,” she repeated softly. It was the only thing she could think of to say. 

Citron swallowed. He ducked his head once. “I apologize for that.” 

“Not me you have to apologize to.” 

He gritted his teeth and turned to Muku. His gaze was still steely and reproachful. “I am sorry for hitting you, Muku. That is not how I should have reacted. It was a lapse in my judgement." 

So out of her depth. 

She was drowning. 

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. 

Too late. The doors to the infirmary opened again and someone new strode in. A thin, bony woman who couldn’t have been taller than five feet, dressed in a smart business suit and with plum-streaked-silver hair left loose around her shoulders. 

Muku took one look at her and lost it again. He took in one lungful of air and began wailing, reaching his arms out to her. “MAMA!” 

Kanae Sakisaka breezed past Izumi and Citron like they were nothing but wall decorations and seized her son around his middle. Muku curled up smaller and smaller until he was safely nestled in her arms, bawling into her chest like his mother was the only refuge he had left in the world. 

Kanae was at least half a foot shorter than everybody else in the room but in that moment, she seemed to be larger than the school itself. 

“Mama, I’m so sorry,” Muku sobbed hysterically, “Mama, I didn’t, I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry, I—!" Another sob tore itself out of him like a tidal wave, washing every coherent word away until all he could do was blubber. 

Kanae just ran her palm over his hair, starting from the edge of his bangs and dragging her hand all the way to the nape of his neck, repeating the process over and over while Muku cried. 

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Shhh… sh, sh, sh. You’ll be okay.” 

Muku continued screaming into her chest, completely unravelling in her grasp. Kanae reached into her pocket and removed a perfumed handkerchief to wipe at the mess of tears, snot, and spit that flooded out of her son’s face. She sat on the bed and cradled the upper half of his body, rocking back and forth. 

Then she finally turned to Izumi. 

“You’re Miss Tachibana, I take it? From the Coven,” Kanae Sakisaka said flatly, suddenly nothing but business. 

Izumi flinched. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“What happened to my son.” 

She swallowed and glanced to Citron. 

“Do you know what skills your son possesses?” he asked, voice soft. 

“Firstborn Seer.” Muku wailed again and she tutted him to quiet down, giving his head another rub. “Daisuke didn’t seem to hold onto too many of the details. Future sight, whatever. I need to know the full story of what happened to my son. Who are you?” 

Citron bowed low first. “My name is Citron. I am the Seer teacher of Mankai Coven.” 

“That only answers one of my questions.” 

Citron pursed his lips. “Your son saw an alarming thought in one of his classmates. It was…” He glanced at Izumi and hesitated. “Jarring?” She nodded and Citron continued. “Enough that Muku panicked and flew into a rage.” 

“But just a thought?” Kanae said, picking up on the words used. “Not… the future." 

“…Yes. Just a thought.” 

She closed her eyes and the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes grew more pronounced. “I see.” 

Kanae suddenly turned to Izumi again, eyes growing harder. “And we can’t tell the truth to the school? That he has magic?” 

Izumi wished they could. Izumi wished from the bottom of her heart that they could just tell everybody the truth, turn back time and have Muku stay home today, _anything_ to avoid this. “No, Mrs. Sakisaka.” 

“What happens if we do?” 

“…The Council will intervene. Wipe the memories of everybody told and it all goes back to square one.” Izumi curled her fingers into fists and _willed_ them to stop shaking. “And Muku will lose his right to magic society. The Council will strike him from the Coven’s roster and there’s very little I can do about that.” 

Kanae went silent. Her eyes slid shut once more and Izumi wished she knew what the woman was thinking. 

“It is my fault,” Citron said suddenly. 

The two women looked at him. 

Citron’s face was calm but _mourning_. “I have been teaching Muku as I had been taught as a child. I did not begin to see the thoughts of others against my will until I turned sixteen. I should have realized he would be different as a Firstborn. It was my carelessness that let this happen.” 

He sank to his knees and lowered his head, offering all he could in that moment—complete and utter surrender of his pride—to Kanae Sakisaka’s feet. “I apologize from the bottom of my heart.” 

Kanae shifted Muku so that he was off of her lap. The boy clung to her arm instead, hiding his face in her shoulder and shutting the rest of the world out. She crossed her legs and stared down at Citron. 

“Would Muku have started seeing thoughts without your training?” she asked, surprising both teachers with the question. 

Citron spoke carefully. “The… The lessons may have sped up the process. But eventually, on his own… yes.” 

“I see. Lift your head, Mister Citron.” Citron did so and stared at her. Kanae’s eyes were severe but hellbent. “The way I see it, my son would have suffered either way. As he is suffering now, or a few years in a situation just like this one. The only difference is that _now_ , he knows what's happening. I don’t want to imagine a world where Muku couldn’t make heads or tails of why he could see the things he does.” 

Her son flinched sharply before covering his ears to shut the world out even further. 

Kanae continued. “The way you apologize for this grievous error is to promise you will never, ever let this repeat itself. And you will _never_ have my son suffer or cry as he did today. Am I clear?” 

Citron nodded slowly. “Yes, madam.” 

“Good.” She turned her steely eyes towards Izumi and it took everything within the Director to not immediately begin crying as well. “You. How old are you, Miss Tachibana?” 

“I’m twenty-four, Mrs. Sakisaka.” 

“And you, Mister Citron?” 

“…Twenty two.” 

Kanae chuckled without humor and just closed her eyes. “Absolutely ridiculous. The two of you are still children yourselves.” 

Neither of them could say anything to that. 

“When I was your age, Miss Tachibana, I’d just met Daisuke,” Kanae continued. “I was two years out of university and trying desperately to find my place in the world. And you think you’re in a place where you can teach children?” 

Izumi grappled wildly for an answer. Both options sounded bad. A yes invited arguments that would destroy her. A no would be an admission to her ineptitude. Neither was what Izumi wanted. 

“I’m doing my best, Mrs. Sakisaka,” she settled on at last. “I’d put anything and everything down for the wellbeing of my students.” 

“ _Best_ is not enough,” the older woman said sharply. “There is nothing rewarded just from trying one’s best. A fish could try his damned hardest to walk on land and the moment he puts himself to the test, he will die. I need more than the best from you if I will trust my son under your tutelage.” 

Another silence again. 

Kanae put a hand on the back of Muku’s head. “Muku will most likely be expelled.” 

The younger Seer pulled himself away, eyes wide. “M-Mama, no! No, no, no, I can’t—I can’t be expelled, Mama, that’s not _fair,_ I didn’t…!” 

She silenced him with just one look. “Muku. You hurt a boy _very_ badly. If your headmaster’s description was accurate, we’ll be lucky if the Shimadas don’t press charges. Expulsion is a guarantee.” 

Muku’s face scrunched up and he let out another cry. “But that’s not fair!” 

“Yes, it is. Don’t you dare raise your voice at me, young man. I’ll deal with you later, I need to finish speaking with your teachers; I’d rather send them off than have them sit in on the conference.” Kanae turned back to Izumi and Citron. “My husband and I will be taking time off for a week. Muku will be going with us on a family vacation, away from all of…” 

She made a noise in the back of her throat and gestured to the two magicians. 

“All of this magic nonsense,” she continued. Which, admittedly, kind of stung but Izumi would take it. “He will return to your Coven after and resume lessons. _Proper_ lessons. And both of you will now be held accountable to the highest degree of my son’s wellbeing while we deal with the fallout from your incompetence thus far. Understand?” 

“Yes, madam.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” Kanae jerked her chin to the two wooden doors. “Get out of my sight.” 

Izumi and Citron left without another word as the sounds of Muku’s cries rang through the infirmary.

* * *

Telling the story to Tsuzuru and Omi had been difficult. 

Seeing Yuki storm inside as soon as the clock struck 3:10, face flushed from having run all the way back, was _soul-crushing_ in comparison. 

“They’re all calling him a fucking psycho,” Yuki snapped, eyes teary. “They—none of them fucking know a THING, but they’re going around saying Muku Sakisaka’s a fucking lunatic, and that ’they always knew there was something off about him,’ a-and, rumor’s that he got EXPELLED.” 

The brownie flung his backpack to the ground and gave it a kick. 

“They don’t know ANYTHING!” he bellowed. “HALF OF THEM WEREN’T EVER THERE AND THEY’RE ALL ACTING LIKE THEY KNOW EVERYTHING, they don’t know ANYTHING!” 

“Yuki,” Izumi started, voice low. 

“How could you let this happen?!” the brownie screamed at her. He whirled towards Omi and Tsuzuru in the kitchen who were watching with wide eyes. “GET OUT!” 

Omi started, “I—" 

“OUT! _GET OUT!_ ” 

The two men scurried away. 

“Where’s that foreign cheater?” he spat. 

“…Courtyard.” 

Citron had chosen to sit outside with a cup of tea since returning from Saint Flora’s. He hadn’t spoken a word to anybody. Yuki opened his mouth to demand he be brought forth but Citron beat him to the punch. He opened the sliding glass door and slipped in. 

He offered the brownie a small smile. “Yuki.” 

“HOW COULD YOU!” Yuki screeched. “You’re his teacher! You’re supposed to—it’s your JOB to make sure Muku doesn’t lose it! The Kazunari thing I could understand but Muku completely lost his _mind_ with Shimada! I, Muku _cries_ when he watches videos of animals getting adopted, he never would have done anything like that normally!” 

Izumi wet her lips. “You were there?” 

“Of course I was there! I _saw_ , you _didn’t_ , I saw Muku start screaming and throw himself at Shimada and start beating the living daylights out of him, screaming ‘DON’T’ over and over again!" Yuki screamed, a tear escaping. He roughly swiped a thumb to get it away. “That’s not _normal_ , Muku would have never done something like that. I know he can overreact, but that was DIFFERENT! That was—that was—!” 

“I am sorry,” Citron could only say, just like he had for Mrs. Sakisaka. 

“They all think he’s crazy and Muku can’t even be there to defend himself anymore, a-and…” Yuki kept wavering between being angry and crying. Izumi handed him a dishtowel to wipe his face. “I’ve _never_ seen him get like that before, Director. And now he can’t, we can’t even go to school together.” 

Citron and Izumi didn’t say anything. 

Yuki shrank down and swaddled himself in the towel like a blanket, sitting right there on the floor. “Is… Is it my fault?” 

“What?” Izumi whispered as she knelt down in front of him. “Yuki, no. How could you even say that?” 

“I feel like… Muku never had any problems before me,” he said in a small voice. “It doesn’t make sense. Shimada, he was always a little on the weird side and he and Muku have probably seen each other before. Why did he get so angry? Is it _me?_ ” 

“Muku saw a very, very disturbing sight and reacted without thinking,” Citron said softly, kneeling down on Yuki’s other side. “It was luck you were there, Yuki. If you hadn’t been, we would not have been called. You were a good thing.” 

Yuki buried his face in the towel like he didn’t want to see either of them. “…Muku got expelled.” 

“We know,” Izumi murmured. “We know.” 

“He texted me. He’s not coming back for a week.” 

“…We know.” 

Yuki’s pointed ears drooped a little. Izumi hadn’t known they could do that. “I hate magic sometimes, Director. I hate it a lot.” 

“Yeah.” She reached forward and rubbed his back with one finger. “Me too.” 

Izumi shot a look at Citron, proposing something in her mind. Citron nodded.

* * *

Sakuya couldn’t help himself from gasping. “Never? You’ve never had McDonalds before?” 

“Never,” Tenma repeated and looked very confused as to why this was so surprising. “No McDonalds, Burger King, Wendy’s.” 

“Taco Bell,” Masumi prompted. 

“No Taco Bell either.” 

The three boys walked back towards the dorms from Hanasaki. Tenma had sat at a café, waiting for the two others to wrap up drama club before meeting up. And the topic of conversation today, much to Tenma's chagrin, was his lack of culinary experience at fast food franchises. 

“So you’ve never gotten a Happy Meal before?” Sakuya asked. Were his eyes _watering?_ Tenma didn’t know whether to laugh or feel embarrassed. “No toy?” 

“ _No_. Jesus, Sakuma, it’s not that big of a deal!” 

The Witch shook his head. “It is, though! Okay, we’ll go tomorrow to get you a Happy Meal. Masumi, do you want a Happy Meal?” 

“I’ll take a coffee.” 

“Okay, two Happy Meals and a coffee,” Sakuya said as he unlocked the front door. 

Omi sprung up out of nowhere and jumped on them the moment they walked inside. Not literally, but he might as well. He took all three of their bags. “You three will be in the training room for self study today. Don’t come out until I call you, yeah?” 

Sakuya hesitated. “I have a lesson with the Director though?” 

“No, you don’t,” Omi said flatly as he herded them as fast as possible towards the training room. 

The “why” was answered quickly enough. It was the first time Sakuya, Masumi, and Tenma had come to the Coven to see the Director and Citron drunk. 

“They’ve had a rough day but I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to see them like this," Omi said with a tense smile as he ushered them through the kitchen. 

Sakuya craned his neck to try to look at the two teachers past the werewolf’s burly frame. “What happened to them? It’s, it’s not even late yet. Is that healthy?” 

“Definitely not,” Tenma said. “I have an aunt who drinks wine in the mornings.” 

“What happened to her?” 

Tenma frowned. “Nothing, I just remembered that I had an aunt who drinks wine in the mornings. She vacations a lot around Europe.” 

“You’re so stupid,” Masumi muttered. 

“What?!” 

Izumi leaned back in her chair, a little shot glass in her fingers. “Oof. Kids are home. Wonder if we’ll fuck up with _them_ and ruin their lives too, huh, Citron?” 

“Hoooooooray,” Citron cried and drained his own vodka. “Mistakes have been made! We are _shams!_ Director, shams! Both of us.” 

“Yeeaaaaah! Let’s just _quit_. The both of us. We can leave it all to Matsukawa and—what country are you from again? We’ll go there! Live off the, uh, land. Maybe open a soap-carving stand." 

Omi looked at them scornfully. “This really can’t be the right way to deal with your problems.” 

“Oh, come _on_ , Omi,” Izumi said with a big grin. “We can deal with problems properly _tomorrow_. For now, drinks!” 

“…If you’re inebriated while a problem happens, you’ll sorely regret it.” 

Izumi groaned. "Why would there be two big problems in one day, right? God’s a lie so He can’t hate me that much!” 

Omi gave Tsuzuru’s lab door a glance. “Director, please.” 

“You want belly rubs? Belly rubs, Omi? Tummy wubs?” She giggled to herself. “I miss Fido… why did you have to turn baaaaack? Fido was my best friend in the whole wide world and, and _friendship_ bracelets, Omi!” 

“What is friendship bracelets, Director?” Citron asked, leaning his head on hers. “Friendship is _beautiful_.” 

“It is! It is! I love friendship bracelets, the idea’s always been so nice to me but I’ve never gone through with it.” She poked Citron’s cheek. “It’s, uh, matching bracelets that tells the whooooole world you’re the bestest friends ever. Soooo cute. Oh my gosh, Citron, _we_ should make friendship bracelets!” 

“We should! Now?” 

“Now! Yeah! I mean, we might get shut down soon so it _better_ be now or it might be never.” 

The two burst into peals of laughter. Omi shook his head. Izumi got up and rubbed the back of her hand on a hot cheek, before searching the fridge for another beer. The doorbell rang. 

“Ding dong! I’ve got it!” she cried and went to go answer. 

Someone she couldn’t recognize was standing at the threshold. Izumi squinted. No, no, it wasn’t just the drunken stupor, she genuinely did not know this guy. Tall, with a head of short black hair. Stacked but a little less muscle-y than Omi. Which, to be fair, was an unfair standard, Omi put a lot of professional bodybuilders to shame. 

“Izumi Tachibana?” the man asked. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, that would be me.” 

He flipped over a small patch of leather to flash a badge and ID. “My name is Tasuku Takato. I work as an officer and bodyguard for Mayor Reni Kamikizaka’s private force. You and Citron the Seer are under arrest for suspicion of breaking and entering into the Council’s Main Hall and Mayor Reni’s office. You will be detained for forty-eight hours as evidence is gathered within the boundaries of a warrant.” 

Izumi blinked. She sipped her beer. 

“Hm,” she said at last. “Definitely jinxed it, yeah. Maybe God _does_ hate me that much.” 

“Pardon?” the officer asked. “…Are you drunk?” 

“Ohhh, just a little tipsy,” she said and flapped a hand. "Right. Am I allowed to go peacefully?” 

He removed a pair of cuffs from his belt. “I’m quite sorry.” 

“Thought so.” She finished the beer off and placed the bottle on the floor. “CITRON! C'MERE.” 

Citron popped his head in. “One moment, Director! I am wanting to learn how to make potato salad from Omi!” 

“No time, I’m afraid, we’re getting arrested.” 

His face fell. “Oh. That is very regrettable. My student visa insists I do not get arrested.” 

Izumi shot this Tasuku guy a very pointed look. “This won’t affect his student visa, will it?” 

“No, ma’am.” 

Again, with the ma’am. She wanted to cry. Well, she’d had alcohol and she’d showered. Might as well. Izumi held out her wrists for Tasuku to clamp the cuffs on, binding them tightly. 

Omi finally showed up to see what the commotion was about. He took one look at the situation and his face was struck with grief like he’d just heard news of a horrible accident. “Director?” 

Tasuku blinked. “Fushimi.” 

“…Takato.” 

Izumi gasped dramatically. “Wow, you guys are friends? Friendship reunions are always so sweet. I wish _I_ could have a friendship reunion." 

“You can’t take her,” Omi snarled as he stepped forward. “We need her here." 

Tasuku tensed up and he reached for something in his coat pocket. That wouldn’t do. 

“Down, Omi. Dooowwwwn. Heel! Or whatever. TSUZURU,” Izumi shouted. “YOU’RE IN CHARGE FOR TWO DAYS!” 

_Crash._ The sound of running feet. 

“I’m what?! No!” Tsuzuru shouted and then paused. He squinted at the stranger and Izumi’s handcuffed wrists. “Lord in heaven, Director, what did you do?” 

She shrugged. “Who knows. Council. I’ll be back in forty-eight hours. Think you and Omi can hold down the fort while I’m gone?” 

Omi and Tsuzuru exchanged looks. 

“No,” Tsuzuru said very firmly. 

Izumi rolled her eyes again. “Shut it, you’ll be _fine_. Remember, no TV during meal time and remember to feed Monica if Misumi forgets. He won’t probably, but just in case. Let the kids know what happened but DON’T let them freak out." 

“Do I get the silver friendship bracelets as well?” Citron asked. 

Tasuku stared at them both and his brow creased. He took out another pair of handcuffs and slapped them onto Citron’s wrists. 

Citron nudged Izumi cheerily, both of their handcuffs jingling. “How fun! I have never gotten rested before! And we got the friendship bracelets!" 

“ _A-_ rrested, Citron." 

“Arrested! Have you, Director?” 

They were led to Tasuku’s car, a cute little silver Nissan. Tsuzuru and Omi stood at the threshold behind them, looking very much at a loss for words. “I mean, college. Some parties get wild, we’ve all been there.” 

“Ahh. Interesting.” Citron ducked inside. “Mmm, this car smells like pine.” 

“Really?” Izumi took a sniff. “It does! Nice touch, officer… cockatoo, was it?” 

“Takato,” Tasuku said weakly. He slammed the car door shut. “God, I hate arresting drunkards."

* * *

“ARRESTED?” Sakuya gasped. “Oh _no!_ No! What do we do? Will they both be okay? Is this because of Citron?" 

“Surprisingly, no, not because of Citron." Tsuruzu shot Misumi a pleading expression. “Do you know what’s going to happen to them?" 

Misumi huffed and crossed his legs. “Um… Well, when I got arrested by the Council, I just went to Sakyo’s apartment for the night. I guess they'll be there for forty-eight hours, right?” 

“We’re on lockdown,” Tsuzuru announced, getting up from the table. “No one is leaving the Coven’s doors until the Director gets back. Sakuya, Masumi, Tenma, Yuki, I’ll call you guys out of school. I’ll,” he winced, “cancel my classes for the next two days too.” 

“Will you be in trouble, Tsuzuru?” Sakuya asked. “I’m sure university is different…” 

“It’s a waste of money since classes are expensive but I don’t feel safe otherwise.” Tsuzuru shook his head, lips pressed together so hard they’d formed a white line. “I don’t know _what_ the Mayor’s trying to do right now but I don’t trust a single person on the outside. Lockdown. None of you get in or out of the building _until the Director is with us again_. Understand?” 

The four boys all nodded in affirmation. 

“Right. Good.” He swallowed and turned to Misumi and Omi. “I know I sound paranoid but I’d really prefer to have an eye out. Will you guys be up for doing night shifts with me?” 

“I’m used to doing night patrols, that’ll be absolutely fine,” Omi reassured him. 

Misumi saluted. “Yeaaaah! Can I call Kazu?” 

“Already called him, he’s on his way.” 

Yuki hesitated. “Didn’t that guy get suspended?” 

“It’s going to be a week in a few days and these are special circumstances, Yuki,” Tsuzuru said, running a hand through his hair. “The Director can chew me out if she wants to but I honestly trust Kazunari enough to not screw up around us. We need all hands on deck if we lost _both_ our Seers and the Director herself. Where in the Lord’s holy name is Matsukawa?!” 

“Last I checked, Kamekichi said he and Matsukawa are helping out one of their friends with a music thing,” Sakuya said. “They’re out for a week.” 

The Caster tossed his hands into the air. “They’ve been out for most of the _month!_ Ridiculous.” 

“Tsuzuru, don’t stress yourself out too badly,” Omi tutted, sliding him a mug of warm spiced milk. “You’ll give yourself an ulcer at this rate.” 

“I _wish_ I had an ulcer, then maybe I’d have an excuse to get out of this Coven for a few days!” 

Someone unlocked the door. Kazunari spun a key on one finger, looking a little nervous to be stepping inside the Mankai Coven’s walls once again. 

“Hey, you guys miss me?” he asked, winking. 

Misumi turned into a blue streak as he bolted towards the Caster, flinging his arms around him. “KAZU!” 

The two went crashing to the floor. Tsuzuru rolled his eyes and went over to haul Kazunari back to his feet. 

“Help me set up a perimeter of alarms,” he said shortly, storming outside. “You too, Misumi. Sakuya, barricade the entire back. Bring Monica into the courtyard and tell that monster to stay there.” 

“Yes, Tsuzuru!” 

They all flooded out of the kitchen. Tsuzuru’s fingers glowed brightly as he opened the front door— 

Only to face the Director once again. 

He blinked. 

She blinked back. 

Tsuzuru dropped his hand. “Oh my god, this is so humiliating. I just gave a long, badass speech. What happened to forty-eight hours?!” 

Izumi cleared her throat and shot him a sorry smile. “They let me go. Citron’s—Citron’s still detained for a bit. Can I come inside?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Tsuzuru sighed heavily. “Man. _Humiliating_. You really can’t give me even a second to shine as a hero, can you?” 

“Sorry, Tsuzuru.” 

Misumi hugged her tight. “Yaaaay! The Director is back! Did you go to Sakyo’s house? Wasn’t it really nice? Kazu likes the way he decorated it.” 

“Yeah, yeah! Sakyo’s entertainment system is _sick_ , and his carpets? Soooo fluffy.” Kazunari slung an arm around Izumi’s shoulders. “Sorry for breaking suspension, Director! What can I say? You’re just so stunning I can’t keep myself away. Tsuzuru said it was okay though so he should totes be the one in trouble. Just saying.” 

Izumi just laughed as they herded her back inside. 

“You’re back,” Omi said with relief as he spotted her. 

Masumi shoved him aside to stand in front of her next. “Never leave again. Love you.” 

“Love you too, Masumi,” Izumi said, giving his arm a squeeze. Masumi gave her a simpering, melty smile.“That was honestly just such a weird thing to go through, ugh. Tsuzuru, I’m tired, can you help me to the office?” 

Tsuzuru nudged Kazunari. “Go tell Sakuya to drop the barricading.” 

“Rightsies!”

* * *

Izumi crouched to take a look at the books on the shelf. She began jotting a few interesting titles down on a notepad. _A Review of Black Magic._

Someone knocked on the door. 

“Come in,” she called, continuing the logging. 

Itaru stepped inside, lips twisted into the most damning of pouts. “Do you know where the Doritos are? Did the summoner take them all again?” 

Izumi stared at him. 

“Hello? Earth to halfblood. Did you AFK IRL?” 

“I…” Izumi shook her head. “Did you check all the cupboards?” 

“What am I, a scrub? Of course I checked the cupboards already. I thought you said you went on a snack run recently.” Itaru began tapping a hoof in annoyance. “You know I can’t game properly without snackables.” 

She wet her lips. “Sorry. I’ll get some more tomorrow.” 

Omi swept by with laundry in his arms, clicking his tongue. “Show some mercy, Itaru. She’s had a hard day." 

“Hmph. I don’t care. You better get me my snacks.” Itaru slammed the door shut. 

Izumi stared at where he’d just stood and then quickly wrote another note, hand shaking.

* * *

Dinner time. 

“I think this is the first time Citron wasn’t here to eat with us,” Sakuya said sadly as he slid into his seat beside the Director. “I hope he’s doing alright.” 

“Ohhh, he’ll be fine,” Kazunari said as he accepted the first plate of lasagna. “Staying with Sakyo might as well be a vacation to the Bahamas! I mean, the guy can be a little cold, sure, but he sure knows how to treat guests!” 

The doorbell rang. 

“I’ll go get it,” Tsuzuru said, rising from the table. 

Izumi twitched. 

“…Muku?” Tsuzuru’s voice asked. 

Yuki sprang up and went running. Izumi hesitated before going as well. 

“You boys stay here,” she said evenly. 

When she came to the entryway, she was greeted with the sight of Yuki pummeling Muku’s shin with his tiny fists. 

“Idiot!” Yuki repeated over and over. “You’re such a _dumbass!_ You were so unbelievably stupid today, what were you THINKING?!” 

Muku gave his friend a very small, exhausted smile. The bruise on his eye would stay for a while yet although the lip had already started scabbing. “Sorry, Yuki. It was… a lot.” 

“Muku,” Izumi said. “You… I thought your parents said you’d be on a trip?” 

He bobbed his head once. “We are. We’re… we’re packing now. I just came here to g-grab some of my manga? If that’s okay. I’m sorry, you probably don’t even want to see me.” 

Tsuzuru leaned down to pick Yuki up before the brownie could give Muku a swift kick. 

“PUT ME _DOWN_ , MINAGI!” 

“Don’t be such a brat,” he scolded. “Just let Muku grab his things. You guys can have this conversation in a _week_ when he’s back for sure.” 

Tsuzuru went back into the living room, holding the kicking and spitting Yuki at arms length. 

“Is… Is Mister Citron okay?” Muku asked hoarsely. “My mom really went off on him. I wanted to apologize." 

Izumi opened and closed her mouth. 

Muku’s eyebrows creased. “O-Oh no, is he mad?” 

“No, he’s not mad,” Izumi said and stood aside to let Muku put his shoes on the rack. “He’s… a little Council issue popped up. He’s not here right now but he will be when you get back. Go get your manga and head back home.” 

Muku covered his face with a hand. “…I don’t want people to a-ask what happened. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.” 

“I’ll make sure they won’t.” 

Izumi sat at the table as Muku swept through the kitchen and living room for the dorm hall. She shut down each question before they could finish with just a firm, pointed glare. 

Kazunari stood from the table. “Can I be excused for just a sec?” 

“Don’t bother him, Kazunari, just let him leave as soon as possible,” Izumi said calmly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Director. I’ve had this on my mind for a while though, so… please?” he asked, batting his eyelashes. “On account of me definitely being one of your favorites? Maybe because you know that I’m so good looking and you can’t resist—?” 

“Oh my god, just let him go so he stops talking,” Tsuzuru mumbled. 

Kazunari winked and gave Tsuzuru a quick two-fingered salute, before making his way down the hall. 

Muku was kneeling by his massive bookcase, picking out his favorite comfort volumes in silence. The floorboards creaked and he looked up. Kazunari leaned against the doorframe. 

“Yo,” he said and waved a peace sign in the air. “Hey, Mukkun.” 

Muku swallowed. “Kazunari…” 

The college student knelt down in front of Muku and handed him a little baggy of fruit drops. “I had these saved for Sumi but I think you might need these a little more. You’ve got a nasty hit, huh? Fighting isn’t good, you know.” 

Muku accepted the small cellophane package. He ducked his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice. 

Kazunari cocked his head to the side. “Hm?” 

Muku’s lower lip wobbled. “I thought about it today. And… I’m not going to lie to myself. I know I saw what I saw. But—But it wasn’t fair of me to lash out at you in front of everybody and accuse you. It… Mister Citron said we can’t punish people for just thinking.” 

He lifted his gaze and stared right into Kazunari’s green eyes. “I don’t know why you hate us. I know you do, I don’t know _why_. But I shouldn’t have accused you of being the traitor. So I’m sorry I did that and I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” 

Kazunari blinked, mulling it over. “I don’t hate you guys.” 

Muku cringed. “Kazunari, it’s… it’s really hard to apologize to you and mean it when you lie to my face. Please don’t do that.” 

Kazunari shrugged. “Not a lie. It’s kind of… boring to see the world in black and gray, don’t you think? It’s much more interesting when you can see all the different colors of something." 

The Seer continued after taking a moment to collect himself. “I’m not sure what that means, sorry. I don’t trust you at all but I shouldn’t have tried to get everybody else to turn their backs on you. I’m… I’m going to be more mindful about what I say from now on." 

Kazunari gave a slow quirk of his lips in a grin. “Jeez, Mukkun. You’re gonna have tons of trouble making friends if _that’s_ your idea of an apology. But because I’m such a cutie pie sweetheart, I’ll forgive you!” 

He held out his hand. Muku flinched and bunched his sleeve over his own palm to shake it, keeping the layer of cloth between them. 

“You gonna be okay on your trip?” Kazunari asked. 

Muku nodded. “Can you… Can you make sure everybody is safe while I’m not here?” 

“Yeppers!” He snapped a finger gun. “Nothing like a Miyoshi for the job!” His hand dropped. “And you take care of yourself while you’re gone.” 

Muku closed his eyes. “Okay.”

* * *

Muku emerged with a teetering tower of manga in his palms. 

“Do you want a box for that, Muku?” Izumi asked, getting up from her chair. 

“It’s alright,” he squeaked. “I’ll get going now, I just—WHOA!” 

He tipped forward and the manga pile nearly went everywhere. Yuki snapped his fingers and the books stopped right before they could make impact. 

“Klutz,” the brownie whispered under his breath. 

Muku rubbed his tailbone. “Ow…” 

Izumi smiled at him. “C’mon. Let me help you up.” 

She grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet. 

“Ready to go home?” she said. “Omi, I hope you’ll walk him.” 

“Of course, Director.” 

“N-No! Uh…” Muku cleared his throat. “I need one thing first. Director, could I ask you for a copy of my allergy forms? Mom likes to keep a copy for trips but we can’t find ours. We thought you might have it.” 

“Sure, let me just nab it." 

The two walked to Izumi’s office. As she ducked behind the desk to go through the drawers, Muku gently shut the door behind him. 

“The allergy forms, was it?” she asked. 

“T-There’s, um, there’s no such thing.” 

Izumi froze. She straightened. “Hm?” 

Muku was all pink and out of sorts. “Sorry! Sorry. I really hate lying but this was… just a small fib.” He pinched his fingers to show just how small of a fib it was. “I needed to get us somewhere private so we could talk. M-Mister Citron, he’s my teacher.” 

“I know, Muku,” Izumi said softly. “What are you talking about?” 

“He told me today that Seers just have to look away and not, not punish thinking. And I guess that means I have to s-stop calling people out in public for things that I see?” He rubbed his eye and sniffed. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Izumi stepped forward. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Let’s just get you home to your parents, right?” 

“Can I ask who you are?” 

Izumi didn’t move. 

Muku finished wiping a tear and shook himself out of the lull of self-pity. “I’m really sorry, I hope this doesn’t come off as rude. I’m, I just—I think everyone thinks you’re our Director and that’s not good, right? That’s a, that’s a lie. So…” 

“Muku, what are you talking about?” Izumi asked. “Kiddo, you’re creeping me out.” 

Muku made a weird noise, half moan, half whimper. “P-Please, uh, please don’t use that word when you look like her. That’s… Director’s special word for us and I don’t like it when someone else uses it. I—my name’s Muku Sakisaka. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Muku, what is going _on_ in your head right now,” Izumi chuckled as she took another step forward, hands up to appease him. “You had a really rough morning. Look at you, you’re rambling  about nothing.” 

The Seer gave her a very, very tired smile. “Please stop that.” 

Izumi stopped. 

“I’ve decided from today on, I’m going to give the benefit of the doubt until irrefutable guilt is proven,” he said determinedly. “I don’t want… to hurt anybody else. That—I’m not a bad person and I’m going to work really, really hard so I don’t become one. _Please_ don’t make me do something that’ll make me a bad person.” 

Izumi wet her lips. 

“Who are you?” Muku asked. 

“Izumi Tachibana,” she said. 

He shook his head. “No, no. That’s a lie. I-If it helps, your disguise is really, really amazing! You look and sound _just_ like the Director, you even have some of her speech mannerisms down which is cool. But… The soul is a _little_ off. Director’s is white and blue. Yours has… a little pink at the edges.” 

Izumi stared at him. 

* * *

When the bloodcurdling scream came from the office, not a person in the kitchen stayed still. 

Everybody bolted and ran without so much as exchanging even a word with one another. 

“Director!” Omi yelled first, slamming the door open. 

Masumi shoved past Omi to barrel into Muku, sending them both sprawling. 

“What the _fuck_ did you do,” he snarled. 

“NOTHING!” Muku shrieked, blocking his face like he was expecting to be hit. “N-NOTHING, I SWEAR!” 

Tenma seized Masumi by the back of his shirt and hauled him off. “Calm down, Usui! You can’t just smack first, ask later!” 

“Yes, I can!” Masumi whirled to the Director who was on the floor. “What happened?” 

She stared at Muku with wide eyes. “He _attacked_ me.” 

“LIAR!” Muku screamed. “DON’T LIE ABOUT ME! LIE ABOUT YOURSELF BUT _DON’T LIE ABOUT ME!_ ” 

Tenma strained to hold Masumi back from breaking the middle schooler into several pink pieces. “Masumi—calm DOWN!” 

Sakuya hurried to her side. “Director, are you okay?” 

“I’m just fine, kiddo, just a little shaken up,” Izumi said, patting his head. 

Muku lunged for her. “Don’t call him that! Don’t believe her, that’s not the Director!” 

Omi picked him up like he was nothing but a misbehaving sack of flour. “Don’t go near her.” 

Yuki tried to speak through the clamor but struggled. He let out a disgusted little _ugh_ and grew to human size, clapping his hands. The entire top row of tomes clattered to the ground, cutting the chaos short. 

“Quiet!” he snapped. “Nothing’s going to get done like this!” He eyed Muku who’d gone completely limp in Omi’s hold. “What are you talking about?” 

Muku stared at the Director. “That’s not her. Someone’s pretending to be her. I can—the souls are different, Yuki.” 

“This again?” Tsuzuru said, face sagging in exhaustion. “Muku, how many more people are you going to accuse? First Kazunari, then the episode at school today, now the _Director?_ When does it end? What is your problem?” 

“I don’t _have_ a problem, that’s not the Director!” Muku snapped. “Ask her! Ask her any question!” 

Tsuzuru stared at the ceiling and rolled his eyes. “Hail Mary. Fine. I’ll bite. Director, when’s your birthday?” 

“September ninth.” 

“Favorite food?” 

“Curry.” 

Tsuzuru waggled his fingers. “What’s _my_ name.” 

“Tsuzuru Minagi.” 

The Caster pointed to her and then Muku. “Your point being?” 

“Ask her something only she knows!” Muku insisted. "That's, anybody could know those things!"

Misumi’s voice started off low and dark, unlike his usual cheery air. “You can’t just accuse everybody whenever you want. You said Kazu _hates_ us and now you’re saying the Director’s a liar? You’re behaving like a _bad kid_ , Muku.” 

“Hold on.” 

The entire room went icy still at Kazunari’s voice. 

He had a confusing… something on his mouth. It wasn’t quite a smile, but something that looked reminiscent of it. He tipped the brim of his hat back with his thumb. 

“I believe him,” he said casually and shrugged. “Mukkun’s something else. Tsuzuroon, you got a question only you and the Director know the answer to?” 

The other Caster opened his mouth but couldn’t think of a thing to say. 

“Kazu, what are you talking about?” Misumi hissed. 

Kazunari just shrugged and then gave him what Tsuzuru had come to learn was trademarked as the Winning Miyoshi Smile. “Mukkun’s got a good eye, is all. And you know about the binder. Maybe a bit more of a super duper secret question is needed?" 

“Out,” Tsuzuru said suddenly, interrupting their small exchange. “Everybody out.” 

Muku’s face scrunched up. “But—" 

“OUT!” Tsuzuru said, milking all the authority he could from his years of being a big brother. 

Everyone slowly filed out of the office except for Masumi, who had to be dragged out by Tenma. 

Tsuzuru shut the door and leaned his back on it. 

“Director, you know I trust you, right?” Tsuzuru said. 

Izumi rubbed her face. “We have _got_ to get that kid under control. He’s been flying off the handle way too often. Do you… do you think keeping Muku in the Coven is doing more harm than good?” 

“Director.” 

She looked up at him. 

Tsuzuru pursed his lips. “Why did Misumi summon Itaru?” 

“What?” Izumi’s shoulders dropped. “You’re doubting me too? Tsuzuru, come on.” 

“It’s just us. I’m only checking. You know… I think everybody has it in them to be evil. The cynicism thing.” 

Izumi stared at him and went red. “Are you kidding me? Tsuzuru, seriously, that’s so not cool.” 

“Answer the question, Director,” he said firmly. “I’m checking. It can’t hurt.” 

Izumi’s lip curled with distaste. 

“He summoned Itaru,” she said carefully, “for revenge on his family.” 

Tsuzuru sighed. He bobbed his head once in a nod. 

“Wow. Absolutely unbelievable." 

Then he turned an unforgiving, poisonous glower at the imposter on the floor. “How dare you. How _dare_ you wear her face.” 

He flung the Bind Rune forward before Izumi could even scream.

* * *

Itaru emptied an entire box of pop rocks into his mouth and crunched. He lavished in the sound of tingly little _pop pop pop!_ the candy set off, and then sneered. 

“You serious?” he asked. “That’s really funny. I couldn’t even tell. Granted, I guess I don’t spend too much time outside of my room. _That’s_ why she looked so freaked to see me, huh?” 

Tsuzuru jerked his chin. “Come with us. We put them in the basement. The kids are locked off into their rooms while we question whoever thought they could waltz in here and act like the Director.” 

“Question,” Itaru drawled and leaned a cheek on his fist. “You need me for it why?” 

The Caster’s face paled further. “We have no means of extracting information. Muku can only tell if someone's telling truths or lies. Maybe catch the occasional stray thought. We need _more_ than that and the only way to get it is to make the imposter talk.” 

“You want me to torture them, huh.” 

“T-Torture is a strong word.” Tsuzuru shrugged weakly. “Physically coerce to surrender information is a much better way to phrase it. And… I can’t do it. I’m not going to make Omi do it. You, on the other hand, are a demon so I figured there was nothing to lose." 

“I’m busy,” Itaru said, swiveling his chair around to face his PC once more. 

Tsuzuru’s eye twitched. “Misumi?” 

“Do what he says, Itaru!” Misumi called from the hallway, ten feet away and hidden from sight. “Umm… I order you to! Heehee. Was that good, Kazu?” 

“So cool, Sumi, you’re so cool.” 

“Yaaaaay!” 

Itaru clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Damn. Well, if the master so insists.” 

The two slipped past Omi who was guarding the bathroom door and descended the staircase. 

Itaru whistled as he caught sight of Izumi against a wall, wrapped in red like a pretty present. “Who’d have thought I’d get to see _this_." 

“Itaru, you can’t—you can’t hurt me,” Izumi said desperately. “You _know_ you can’t, I’ve let you stay here! I know you have some good in you, please!” 

The demon chuckled deeply. “That’s very cute. Thank you for that, it’s nice to see the halfblood act so desperately for her own sake rather than someone else’s for once.” 

“Keep them alive,” Tsuzuru snapped. “Nothing too demonic, you hellspawn.” 

Itaru rolled his eyes. “You truly refuse to let me have even a bit of fun, don’t you? Alright. Just the fingers then.” 

Izumi went white. “F-Fingers?” 

Tsuzuru made a disgusted noise and turned his head. “I don’t want to see this.” 

Itaru leaned down and gently pried one of Izumi’s hands from the red twine. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, marveling at them. “Incredible. Every single detail, down to the callouses and fingerprints. Tell me, how did you replicate the essence of her soul as well? That is amazing.” 

“Itaru, stop,” Izumi begged, words catching in her throat. The demon smiled and slowly began to bend the finger back. “Stop, stop! ITARU, STOP!” 

_Crack_. 

Tsuzuru grimaced and covered his ears when he heard the high-pitched scream. His stomach churned with the want to vomit. 

“STOP!” Izumi shrieked as her eyes leaked. The sight of one finger bent so out of place compared to the others was repulsive. “STOP IT!” 

“I’m not doing anything besides bending your fingers a little,” Itaru said calmly. “You have the power to stop it all within yourself, whoever you are. Drop that mask and so this will come to an end.” 

He reached for the middle finger and began to slowly push it back as well. 

The hand suddenly turned hot and buzzed in his grasp. Fingers grew thicker, longer. Callouses melted into soft and unmarred, dry skin. Izumi’s face pinched and spread, resizing into something a little more chubby cheeked with youth. Brown hair flooded back into a scalp, turning magenta instead. Itaru flinched when, finally, Sakuya’s eyes pierced him. 

“Stop it, Itaru,” Sakuya wailed. “Stop it, it hurts!” 

The demon’s eyes shrank to pin pricks. Flames burst from his shoulders, skyrocketing until they licked the ceiling and left long, trailing black streaks in their wake. 

“You _dare_ present yourself as the Witchling?” Itaru hissed, eyes glowing pink. Fangs elongated until they prodded his bottom lip. “You have such nerve to attempt to daunt me like this?” 

“Itaru, it HURTS!” 

The demon dropped the hand like it burned him. 

“Are you kidding me?” Tsuzuru asked. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME, ITARU. YOU’RE A _DEMON._ ” 

Itaru rose to his feet and took a step away. He cast a scornful glower at Tsuzuru. “The Witchling is an undiluted pure innocent. Demons do not touch his kind.” 

“IT’S AN IMPOSTER, YOU USELESS HALF-GOAT!” 

“Would you be able to snap the neck of your youngest brother, Caster?” the demon spat. “Even if you knew he was a lie?” 

Tsuzuru twitched. 

The two of them stared at Sakuya sniveling on the ground. 

Tsuzuru pressed a hand over his eyes. “Fuck. _Fuck_.” 

Screwed. They were completely screwed. Muku couldn’t read thoughts clearly yet and they had no means of wrangling information out of the imposter without pain. And they couldn’t _give_ pain to faces they knew and cared for. Who in the world could be more unfeeling, more lacking in basic human empathy, than a demon? 

“Yo, uglies. Sakuya texted me about an imposter?” Banri said, hopping down the stone stairs. He waved his phone. “Oh, shit, is _that_ the imposter there? That’s fuckin’ metal, man, wow. Bitch looks exactly like Sakuma.” 

Tsuzuru turned his face towards the ceiling. 

The Lord listened and answered when one prayed. But a part of Tsuzuru really wished that He would have turned a blind eye just this once. 

Something struck his thoughts. 

“What’s his name,” he asked Sakuya’s face. 

Sakuya looked up at him and didn’t say a word. 

“ _What’s his name_ ,” Tsuzuru demanded as he jabbed his finger in Banri’s direction. 

Silence. 

Tsuzuru bit his lips as something bubbled inside of him. He exploded laughing, bending over as his stomach pulled so hard it got painful. 

“Knew he’d lose it,” Banri muttered. “Didn’t think it’s be in front of me.” 

Tsuzuru wiped his eyes. A part of him wondered if this was what people did Ecstasy for. The euphoria, the absolute hysterical, nonsensical joy that came with connecting the dots. The imposter didn’t know who Banri was. If they were confident they knew everybody in the Coven enough to sneak in, but didn’t have information on Banri… well, that could only be because Banri was never registered. 

“Council dog,” Tsuzuru wheezed. “I should have known—it was too perfect. _Council_ dog. The fucking _Council_ sent you, didn’t they? Arrest the real Izumi Tachibana, send you in to scope around and find things. Amazing. Didn’t think Reni had it in him. Too bad it’s insanely illegal and impedes on so many privacy rights." 

It was… strange to watch Sakuya turn ashy. 

Tsuzuru stretched and then let out a relieved sigh. “Hey, blessed.” 

“Yo, ugly ass nerd.” 

“Unnecessary, but I’ll let it go. You have free reign to do whatever you want to whoever this is until they’re ready to talk.” Tsuzuru started up the stairs. “Itaru, you’re coming with me. We have a lot to do now. Blessed, don’t let it slip what your name is.” 

Itaru and Tsuzuru disappeared. Banri cracked his knuckles and took a step closer. 

“Hey,” he asked Sakuya’s face. “Quick question. Can you turn into _anybody?_ ” 

Not a word. 

Banri crouched down and took his phone back out, flipping around until he got to a picture. He showed Hyodo. “Can you change into this?” 

Sakuya shook his head slowly. 

“Ahhh, damn. That sucks. I would have enjoyed doing this so much more.” 

He seized the back of Sakuya’s head and slammed his knee into the side of his face, chuckling when he heard cartilage snap. Sakuya’s screams rang high, loud, and clear on the stone walls. Blood burst forth, gushing first then dribbling heavy all the way to his chin. 

“Stop it!” 

Banri kneed him again in the side of the face. Less of a scream this time, more of just a choked, pained grunt. “No.” 

He watched in amazement as Sakuya melted into someone pink. The Hyodo cousin, but this time with a nasty bruise on the side of his face and a cut lip. 

“Please, stop!” Muku bawled. “P-Please!” 

Banri leaned down to nudge Muku’s nose. His face was fucked up, but the _nose_ was fine. 

“Holy crap, you heal when you shapeshift?” Banri crowed. “Dude, that’s so SICK! It’s full animorph, then.” 

The Muku copy cautiously gave Banri a hopeful look. 

“Sucks for you though, I hate that entire family with everything in my body.” He gave Muku a swift kick to the ribs. “Beating up fourteen year olds isn’t really my thing but I’ll take what I can get.” 

The Director, this time. 

“It hurts,” Izumi wheezed. “Just—quit it. I can’t keep _changing_ , please, anything, just stop hurting me.” 

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Banri complained. “By the way, I grew up with an older sister who _taught_ me how to take a punch. The whole ‘oh, I’m gonna turn into a girl so no one hurts me’ thing doesn’t work.” 

And with that as a final statement, Banri lazily kicked up a foot and brought his heel slamming down on the Director’s skull. 

Her body hit the ground and everything melted away into a completely new face. 

“Now _what_ do we have here,” Banri cooed. 

He squatted and picked up the ragged, unconscious form by a fistful of flaming red hair. It was a boy; looked younger than Banri but also looked just about Sakuya’s age. So sixteen? Maybe seventeen. 

Banri smacked him a few times on his cheeks. “Oi. Wake up. Ready to talk?” 

Nothing. 

Banri pressed two fingers to the guy’s neck, checking for a pulse just in case. 

The stranger’s eyes popped wide open and his skin burned scorching hot. Banri watched the face melt into a mirror of his own. The red twine stretched, struggling to keep his larger form contained. 

“ _Fuck_ you,” Banri’s face spat at him before his own fist came smashing down on his face. 

_Ah. Well, this is definitely a new take on self hatred,_ he thought as his jaw came down on his tongue and his mouth filled with the taste of iron. 

The clone bounded up the stairs in a desperate escape. 

“GET HIM, COP HEAD!” Banri bellowed. 

He scrambled to his feet and the chase was on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh you taichi theorists must feel just so proud of yourselves. Deserved!


	26. Sakyo Owns Just Dance 4?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know this chapter is a lot shorter than my usual but when the word count just got a little too high, I decided instead to save most of the chapter to post on the 4th along with the 27th, to celebrate the 2 month anniversary of this fic!
> 
> Hope you enjoy
> 
> ALSO: It was brought to my attention that this fic got a TV Tropes page??
> 
> https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/OfCovensAndMagicians
> 
> Literally one of the funniest things I've seen in a long while, thank you to whoever put aside the time to both make and trope-tag this LOL?? Did not know Japanese Christian was a trope but looks like Catholic Tsuzuru fits into a new niche category

“AND I—!” Izumi and Citron bellowed at the top of their lungs, tossing their handcuffed arms into the air and leaning on one another as the radio blasted. “WILL _ALWAYS LOVE YOOOOUUUUUU!”_

Tasuku sighed to himself and continued driving. He _hated_ driving drunks around but Sakyo’s apartment was only a few more minutes away. 

“Hey, hey, Officer Cockatoo,” Izumi asked, leaning forward. “Do you have any peanuts?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Peanuts! I could really do with some snacks right about now.” 

Tasuku rubbed his forehead. “Miss Tachibana, you do understand you’re under arrest, right?” 

Citron moaned as his head lolled to the side. “Hungry. Can we please stop by somewhere for food?” 

“Oh my gosh, yes! I want sisig, wait, Officer Cockatoo, there’s this really amazing Filipino restaurant if you cross the street here—” 

“No,” he said firmly. “ _Please_ shut up.” 

He turned Celine Dione up higher to drown out their complaining, and continued driving until he finally pulled up to Sakyo’s apartment. Trying to pull two very drunk and sloppy people out of his car was something he was used to doing at this point, (usually Hunters or Casters that got a little too tipsy at bars) but this was something else entirely. 

“Oh, Officer,” Citron said, turning pink as he stumbled onto Tasuku’s chest. He melted against it and let out a sigh. “How firm… do you work out?” 

“Whaaaat? Wait, let me feel, can I feel?” Izumi whined. 

Tasuku turned his gaze to the sunset and could only breathe out slowly to calm himself. The two drunks burst into giggles. 

He knocked on Sakyo’s door. 

“ _What_ ,” the Hunter snapped as he opened up. “It’s my day off." 

He blinked at the scene before him. 

Izumi burst out laughing until tears pricked in her eyes. “Sakyo, nice bathrobe.” 

Sakyo Furuichi refused to blush, or even acknowledge the fact that he’d answered the door in his favorite red silk bathrobe. On reflex, his hand shot up to readjust his glasses before he realized that he did not have them on. 

“What are you doing with them?” he asked tiredly. 

Tasuku shrugged and shoved Citron towards him. “Mayor Reni issued out a warrant for their arrest. He got an anonymous tip that they might be responsible for the break-in on the Council’s Main Hall during the ball. They’re yours for forty-eight hours while the investigation goes underway.” 

“Excuse me? The both of them were _at_ the party, that’s completely illogical.” 

Tasuku shrugged and saluted, eager to make his getaway. “I’m just following orders, Furuichi. On the last order, Miss Tachibana, you’re asked to change.” 

“Me?” Izumi asked, pointing to herself. “Christ, I haven’t been asked to since college but…” 

She reached for the bottom of her shirt and everybody yelled “NO!” except for Citron who just clapped giddily. 

Tasuku shoved a paper bag into her arms. “Furuichi, get her something to change into.” 

“I don’t have anything,” Sakyo snapped. 

“Well, you're going to have to find something fast, Reni asked for her clothes specifically.” 

“What the _hell_ is the Mayor going to use her clothes for?!” 

Tasuku closed his eyes. “I only follow orders. I’ve given up on questioning them a long time ago. Please don’t make my job any more difficult than it has been already.” 

Sakyo ran his fingers through his hair. In the middle of his emotional turmoil, Citron had slipped out of his shoes and begun to roam the apartment. 

“Ah! Misumi was right, this is a very nice…. bachelor tampon!” 

Izumi breezed past, instantly curious. “Pad, Citron. Really?" 

Sakyo’s apartment was more or less exactly what she could have expected from someone who was single but also made full-time income. The shaggy, yet somehow well maintained and clean, carpet was something of its own to be jealous about, but the living room’s entertainment system was unbelievable. She dropped to her knees and began sorting through the Wii games. 

“Do you have Kirby’s Epic Yarn?” she asked. “That’s my _favorite_ , it’s so cute.” 

“Just Dance 4!” Citron gasped, holding up the little plastic case. “We shall jubilate and dance until our feet get sore!” 

“Are they _drunk?_ ” Sakyo hissed at Tasuku, grabbing Izumi and forcing her to her feet. He swiped his finger over the cuffs, unlocking them instantly so they fell to the floor. “Director, how much have you had to drink?” 

She grinned wide at him with red cheeks. “Just a few shots and a couple of beers. Wow, I didn’t notice you had two beauty marks, that’s so sexy. They’re like, I don’t know, put in a metaphor here. Do you have food? I’m so hungry.” 

Sakyo pursed his lips. He led her to his bedroom and rummaged through a drawer to take out a pair of oversized sweats. He handed them over with the paper bag. 

“Please change into these and put your clothes into the bag, Officer Takato seems anxious to leave,” he said gruffly. 

Izumi sprawled out onto his bed. “Isn’t it scary to live by yourself? I tried it once a while ago but I had to move back in with my mom after a week, living on my own was scary whenever I heard a noise outside.” 

“Director, please.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can we order pizza? Please? Please? Extra cheese?” 

Sakyo shut the door and gave Tasuku the most withering glare he could manage. He only put his hands in the air in surrender. 

“Before you berate me or start throwing out the blame,” Tasuku said, “it’s your own fault for vetoing Reni’s proposal for an official holding cell. The agreement was that you’d be responsible for housing any and all suspects while investigations went underway.” 

It was true but Sakyo didn’t have to like it. 

Izumi poked her head out. “I’m not going to give you my bra, it was expensive.” 

Tasuku actually slapped a palm over his eyes. “That will not be necessary, Miss Tachibana. Just your shirt and jeans will do.” 

“Cool!” She went back in and shut the door. 

Sakyo let out a dreary sigh. This would be a very, very exhausting night.

* * *

Izumi stretched out on the nice, plush couch. It was much nicer than the one they had back in the Coven, although less broken in. There was really very little she had to be worried about. The kids would be fine, Tsuzuru had a good head on his shoulders and she was certain that the Mayor wouldn’t find anything. Omi would stay quiet, there was no way to get the truth out of someone without a Seer on hand, and the kids except for Banri were more or less _very_ well-behaved. If anything, this would just be the vacation she so desperately needed. 

“Director Tachibana, please sit up properly,” Sakyo pleaded. 

“Aha!” Citron cried from the kitchen. He returned, proudly holding up a large container of ice cream. “Director, please move aside! I have brought spoils.” 

Sakyo grabbed the Seer’s sleeve. “Did you go through my fridge? You are under _arrest_ , this is not a simple visit.” 

Izumi popped up with a gasp. “Ice cream! Gimme a spoon.” 

Citron just shrugged Sakyo’s hand off and crashed into the couch next. He handed one of the silver spoons to Izumi and helped her sit up before the two began attacking the frozen delicacy with the vigor that was found in only savages, the starved, or the ones who had abandoned sobriety. Sakyo could only watch in muted horror. 

And then horror just became so, so much less muted when Izumi began crying. 

“Am I a bad teacher,” she sniffled as she shoveled another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “Did I make a mistake trying to re-open the Coven?” 

Citron let her rest her face on his shoulder. “Oh, Director, do not cry. You are a very good teacher and you are trying your best.” 

“B-But I got yelled at!” Izumi sobbed pitifully, stealing the carton away from his lap. She plopped her head onto it instead, hugging the large tub to her chest in self-pity. “I haven’t gotten talked to like that from someone in their fifties since, like, school! It was so _humiliating_. I’m not ready to be an adult yet, what am I doing with my life?” 

Sakyo was definitely not following but this was the first time in a very long while he’d had someone cry in front of him. And Izumi Tachibana— 

It was complicated. Everything about her was complicated. 

“Director, are you alright?” Sakyo asked softly. 

Izumi wiped her eyes. “No. I feel so _stupid_. Maybe mom was right, maybe I should just go back to Akita and help out with the family business.” She let out a wet laugh and used the edge of Citron’s shirt as a napkin. As payment, he swooped in to take the ice cream back before it melted any further. “Or I can just do what she’s been asking me to for a while and settle down. Start a family. Meet a nice, rich hubby to take care of me for the rest of my life... Sakyo, you single?” 

Saliva went down the wrong way. He coughed wildly into his fist. 

Izumi burst out giggling. “Kidding! I’m kidding, you don’t have to act so disgusted. Sorry, I can be dumb and say a lot when I drink.” 

Citron sneered, the corners of his lips stretching so wide they forced his eyes to squint. “Alcohol may make it hard for me to See as clearly as without but you are _very_ easy to read, Saxophone.” 

Sakyo flicked his forehead. “It’s Sakyo, you suspicious figure.” 

“Citron’s not suspicious,” Izumi dragged out. “He gives good cuddles.” 

“I do?” 

“You do!” Izumi forced herself up and grabbed Sakyo’s wrist, pulling him down to sit between the two of them. “C’mon, seriously. Citron’s like a…” 

“Director, you struggle with similes when you drink, I think you should stop attempting,” Citron snorted. 

She gave him the finger. “Citron’s like a pot of soup! If… soups could give hugs!” 

“Minestrone,” Citron sang, slinging an arm around Sakyo’s shoulders and bringing himself close. 

Sakyo scowled and tried to shove him away. “This is very unprofessional.” 

Izumi settled onto his other side and tried to grab the remote on the carpet with her foot, failing a few times. She snapped her fingers, just barely able to lift the little device into the air, but enough for her to grab it. She turned Sakyo’s TV on and started flicking through the channels until she got to a cooking show. 

“I’m still hungry,” she said. “I want… curry.” 

“You _always_ want curry, Director.” 

“It’s good.” 

Sakyo felt… uncomfortable, perhaps was the right word, in this situation. After a moment, he cleared his throat. 

“May I leave?” he asked. 

SIlence. 

He glanced at the Seer on his right, then the Witch on his left. Both were fast asleep. 

Well, damn. Certainly nobody in the city could be having a worse night than him.

* * *

Taichi Nanao was having the worst night of his life. 

He shoved the guard aside, ramming the heel of Blessed’s palm into Omi Fushimi’s midsection. He had nothing but the element of surprise on his side, not weight or height, but it was enough. Fushimi slipped and hit his head on the side of the sink. He crumpled to the floor and Taichi lamented the inability to copy him in that moment. Having a big, hefty form like Fushimi’s would have been so convenient but there was no time. Blessed was hot on his heels and Taichi needed _speed._

Fire ran through his veins as his entire body flooded with magic, switching. 

Muku Sakisaka was small but _incredibly_ fast. Taichi let the unfamiliar legs rev into motion and went sprinting as fast as he could for the front door. 

“I don’t think so!” someone sang cheerfully. 

Taichi let out a shriek from Sakisaka’s vocal cords as someone dropped onto him from the ceiling. 

Misumi Ikaruga leered down at him, smiling wide. “You can’t go, you just got here!” 

Perhaps it said something that the boy was more terrifying than the demon under his contract. Taichi ran through a quick list in his mind and hazarded a guess as quickly as he could. Fluffy pink hair for blonde dye, rounded cheeks for a sharper jawline. 

“Sumi,” Taichi forced out with a chuckle. “That kind of hurts!” 

Misumi grinned wider. “I don’t like that. You shouldn’t do that. That’s Kazu’s face!” 

Blue sparks flew from his hands that neared Taichi’s face. He lunged, grabbing the Witch around his throat, and swapped roles. 

Changelings could change their physical appearances but they could not change the clothes that they wore. Taichi’d been given Izumi Tachibana’s clothes from her arrest but he had not been given an eyepatch. 

Misumi’s face fell as he stared into the gaping black socket that was his left eye. 

Ikaruga’s body was fit and it would have to do. Taichi bucked as hard as he could, shoving up a knee to send Ikaruga toppling. He hopped to his feet and tried to go for the door again. He put his hand on the knob and whimpered when a sharp shock singed his fingers. 

“Haha, sorry, man!” 

He whipped around to see Miyoshi helping Ikaruga to his feet. The Caster waggled green-glowing fingers and looked almost apologetic. “Tsuzuroon’s working on something and he made it _very_ clear we’re not supposed to let you leave.” 

Blessed slid into the room. He looked away to spit up a bloody glob on the floor and cracked his knuckles. 

“You’re going to be real sorry you did that,” Blessed said with a wolfish little sneer. 

Misumi looked very unhappy. He unwrapped the yellow flannel around his waist and threw it in Taichi’s direction. “Please cover your face. You can, you can stay as me, but I… don’t like the eye being out.” 

The entryway was too small. There was no sign of escape. Taichi wet his lips and tried to think as the three of them slowly drew closer but the pounding in his head and the cold in his limbs was making it difficult to do so. 

He tested Ikaruga’s honed muscles, tensing his legs and arms. There was a flexibility and power in those joints completely separate from magic and there was no other choice. He would have to go for it despite the lack in depth perception. 

Kazunari flicked a Bind Rune forward and Taichi leapt on the wall, running as fast as he could past Blessed. 

“GET HIM!” Blessed snapped. 

Taichi sprinted for the sliding glass door.

* * *

Sakuya put down another card. “Okay. I’m activating the Bell Tower, which means your financial district takes a massive hit. The stock market has plummeted forty points and your land’s public education system suffers a blow.” 

Masumi made a face and handed Sakuya his Queen card. “Is that even allowed if your kingdom’s under major power-reconstruction?” 

“It should be! That’s what Itaru said.” 

Yuki tossed a pair of sevens into the middle of the circle. “Go Fish.” 

Masumi and Sakuya both groaned before sweeping their entire hands towards Yuki. 

Tenma frowned, staring at his own hand. “I… Still have no idea how this game is supposed to be played.” 

Yuki let out a disgusted noise and turned away from him. 

“It’s demon poker, it’s not that hard to understand,” Masumi said bitterly. “You’re just stupid.” 

“Hey!” 

The four of them got comfortable yet again on Sakuya’s bed as he began to dole out new hands. They heard crashing from outside the door. 

“Think we should go help?” Sakuya asked. 

Yuki snapped his fingers to bring his attention back to the game. “They’ll be fine. Have you seen the people we live with? Complete monsters, all of them.” 

* * *

Taichi curled up and slammed through the glass door, shattering it. He shredded his palms as he crashed onto the courtyard’s grass and the shards scattered through it but there wasn’t time to freak out over the blood. He spotted the large back wall. He rolled as another Rune flew over his head. 

“SUMI!” 

“Got it!” 

The ground underneath him rumbled and cracked, showing dark blue light from underneath. He just barely rolled further to avoid a black spike as it speared right through where he’d been last. Taichi wrenched himself up and ran as fast as he could, lungs burning, for the wall. 

“Monica, grab him!” 

_WHO THE FUCK IS MONICA?,_ Taichi thought through the murk of hysteria. _NONE OF THEM WERE ON FORMS!_

Something massive plowed into his side. A dinosaur-looking monstrosity stood on top, razor sharp talons digging into his chest. The large, curved beak of death snapped right in front of his face as silvery moonlight reflected off of blue feathers. 

_WHAT. THE. FUCK._

He seized the bird’s long leg and forced it off of him, wincing as a talon caught on skin and ripped through. Taichi threw his shirt off and immediately swapped. He had no idea what the bird was but all he needed was to buy himself more time, and confusion would do it. Flight wouldn’t hurt either. 

Taichi stretched out his massive wings and shuddered at the way his bones felt so light and breakable. The bird (Monica?) let out an insulted, jackhammer-esque trill, shooting him a dirty look. Blessed laced his fingers behind his head and pursed his lips together into a thin line. 

“Misumi,” he said very flatly. 

The Witch came closer to the two birds, eye wide. He grinned, cocking his head to the side. “Monica?” 

Monica trilled. Taichi tried to do the same. There was no way Ikaruga would be able to tell the difference, they were identical in every— 

Ikaruga patted Monica’s head. “Thank you!” 

He threw himself at Taichi, grabbing his wings and making sure to stay away from the beak. 

“Bad! Monica doesn’t like it when there are other people around to steal the spotlight!” 

_How the FUCK—_

Taichi squawked and slipped out of the bird’s form when Ikaruga snapped one of his wings. He fell limp onto his knees, completely drained. There was nothing anymore, no hope, none of his magic, not even adrenaline for a jumpstart. He felt so hollow and tired. There was no way he’d be getting out of this and they’d already seen his face. Everything was over, Reni was going to kill him. 

And… Taichi was hungry. 

“Christ, dude, put on some fucking pants,” Blessed muttered, leaning down to pick up Izumi’s jeans and toss them at him. 

Taichi slipped them on and his stomach growled. Ikaruga’s ears pricked up like he’d heard something interesting. He shot Taichi a smile. 

“Do you want something to eat?” Ikaruga asked. 

“Are you _kidding me?_ ” Blessed spat. “Dude, what is your problem? Did the past ten minutes just not happen in your brain." 

Ikaruga stuck his tongue out. “It’s what the Director would have wanted. She fed Omi when he was down there!” 

“Yeah, well, we brought Fushimi here against his will so she was obligated to feed him. _This_ motherfucker just strolled in thinking it would be fine to swap faces with everyone here. There’s a very large difference.” 

Kazunari Miyoshi chuckled and leaned over to ruffle Blessed’s hair. “Identity theft is not a joke, Jim! Millions of families suffer every year.” 

“Get off of me.” 

Misumi herded Taichi inside. “In the immortal words of Citron, ‘Let’s go put some meat on your inside sticks!’ And, um, let’s go get you something besides Director’s shirt to wear. We can’t let you go until she comes back but we can eat something! Omi—” 

Banri snorted. “He’s out cold. Hit his head on the sink.” 

Taichi’s stomach fell. 

“Aww, that’s too bad. Omi should be less clumsy!” Misumi thought. He clapped his hands. “Ah! I got it.” 

He pushed Taichi towards Kazunari and then went running down the hall, kicking open Sakuya’s room. “Teeeenma! Give me your credit card!” 

“What? Why do you—JESUS, MISUMI, YOU CAN’T JUST—STOP, GIVE ME MY WALLET!” 

“Yaaaaaaay! Wallet!” Misumi came running out, gleefully waving the shiny leather slab in the air. Tenma Sumeragi went chasing after him, face flushed. 

“Give that back!” 

Misumi laughed giddily before throwing the wallet over his head. “Yuki, catch!” 

The brownie popped out of the hallway and snapped his fingers, bringing the wallet to his hand. He shrank down and dove under the couch. 

“You—Rurikawa! Give that back!” Tenma ducked down and tried to grab Yuki. 

He slid out from the couch, wallet abandoned in favor of clutching onto a little golden card. “Got the credit card! Masumi, get Dominoes on the phone! Get me cheese and pepperoni!” 

“Pineapple!” Misumi crowed. 

“NO!” Tenma yelled, trying to catch Yuki as he ran around. The brownie hurled the card at Blessed’s feet. Taichi watched them, at a complete loss for words. Miyoshi gave him a nudge to the thigh with his knee. 

“You want something?” Miyoshi asked. 

Taichi cleared his throat. “Uh… uh… Meat lovers. And a coke?” 

“MEAT LOVERS AND A COKE, MASUMI!” 

Banri tripped Tenma and went to Masumi’s side. “I mean, if he’s paying, then… The credit card number is four—” 

“I’M GOING TO KILL ALL OF YOU!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact, i allowed myself to get drunk to write this chapter as "research"
> 
> (edit: FORGOT TO MENTION--WE GOT TO 400 KUDOS AHHHH... THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING, SERIOUSLY)


	27. Canoodling in the Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy official 2 month anniversary of this fic!
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter: Brief mention of past suicidal ideation + regret

Tsuzuru scrolled through the document one last time, reading from top to bottom. He slid the laptop over to Itaru to read it over. 

“What do you think?” he asked breathlessly. 

Itaru gave him a scathing look. “When you said we had ‘work to do,’ I thought we were going to do something fun and physically taxing. I did not think you were going to have me proof-read a _lawsuit_. Why are you so boring, sacrifice? I am curious.” 

“Shove it, not everything has to be guns blazing. My family and I’ve been getting ready to sue the Council for _years_ , but this is absolutely perfect. We could boot the Kamikizakas from office for good!” 

Itaru’s ears twitched. He raised an eyebrow. “Plural?” 

“Ah. The current Kamkizaka’s actually Reni Junior. He’s a Secondborn, father a Firstborn. Both were mayors.” 

Itaru pursed his lips as he began to read through Tsuzuru’s lawsuit proposal. “I assumed the word mayor implied a democratic process of voting a figurehead to power, not gaining such through lineage.” 

Tsuzuru rolled his eyes. “He _was_ voted in, unfortunately, but it might as well be a monarchy. There were forty-nine Bloodlines in the city and the bare majority of them have been sucking up to the Kamikizakas’ asses for a century by now.” 

“Were…” 

“Forty-three now. One moved away, three merged, two died out.” Tsuzuru paused. “Forty-four. Technically, Director would count as a Bloodline since her father is absent." 

Itaru highlighted a section in the document that was worded vaguely and made a quick edit. He continued reading as Tsuzuru sat and stared at him with the intensity of a hellfire. 

“It’s good,” Itaru said at last, handing the laptop back. “Except for a few choices in vocabulary, this should be passable for notarization and filing.” 

“You know legal stuff?” 

“Oh, sacrifice, how cute. Where do you think all lawyers end up?” 

Sounded about right. Tsuzuru slipped his phone out of his pocket and pressed the speed-dial. He raised the phone to his ear, waiting for the call to connect. 

_Click_. 

“ _Hello?_ ” 

“Dad,” Tsuzuru said as mirthless delight bubbled in his stomach. “You’re not going to believe this but something great is going to happen. I need you to call every independent Bloodline in the city and get them on board."

* * *

When Tsuzuru and Itaru left the labs, they were greeted with the sight of several pizzas in the living room. 

“Hey, Tsuzuroon!” Kazunari said, holding up a plate. “Saved you some. You too, LARP man.” 

Itaru scowled. “LARP man.” 

“Miyoshi… you know by now he’s not LARPing, right? You can’t be that dumb.” 

Kazunari winked. “Haha! If I feign ignorance, can’t be involved when you’re all brought to court!” 

That was fair. Tsuzuru spotted the stranger sitting in-between Misumi and Masumi, an entire pizza box in his lap that he was mowing through without pausing for a breath. “Is that…” 

“Shapeshifter,” Banri said flatly. 

“YOU’RE FEEDING HIM PIZZA? HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE BASEMENT! And is that my shirt? You gave him my _clothes?!_ " 

The shapeshifter grimaced, curling in on himself. 

“Don’t be mean!” Misumi whined. “All you said was that we weren’t supposed to let him go. You didn’t say we couldn’t have a pizza party!” 

Tsuzuru stared at all of them and ran a hand through his hair. “What the _fuck_ , you guys.” 

“That’s a hundred yen!” 

“Director isn’t here.” 

“I’ll tell her.” 

Tsuzuru narrowed his eyes. “Misumi, you’re a _snitch?_ ” 

The Witch held up a peace sign. “Director says cursing is a bad habit! Especially in front of the kids!” 

Tsuzuru chose to ignore all of that. He instead turned his attention to one of the boxes on the floor. 

“Who ordered PINEAPPLE on pizza? Whoever did is expelled, I’m done.” 

Misumi’s jaw dropped. “You can’t expel me!” 

“When Director’s not here, I technically can as her number two. Congratulations, Misumi, you're expelled for food crimes.” 

“Noooooooo! L-Look, the pineapples are in triangles! That makes it better, right?” 

Tsuzuru took the extra-cheesy slice from Kazunari and went to go fetch a can of condensed milk from the fridge. Itaru plopped down beside Sakuya to eat his own share. The shapeshifter dropped his box and leaned back, rubbing his stomach. 

Kazunari reached over and slapped his shoulder. “Eat enough?” 

“…No.” 

Yuki snorted. “You ate an _entire pizza_. What do you mean you didn’t have enough?” 

The shapeshifter went as red as his hair but instead chugged his two-liters of cola rather than speak. 

“What’s your name?” Sakuya asked kindly. “Welcome to the Coven, by the way!” 

“No, he is _not_ welcome to the Coven,” Tsuzuru said sharply. “We have standards.” 

“Your standards plummeted the second you guys gave a room to a demon,” Yuki sniffed. 

It was true but that didn’t mean Tsuzuru had to like it. 

The shapeshifter made a face and continued drinking like he didn’t want to answer. 

Sakuya scooted closer and offered the shapeshifter his own slice of pizza. “You said you were still hungry, right?” 

He nodded slowly and accepted the slice before tearing into it voraciously. Yuki gagged. 

“ _None_ of you have any manners,” the brownie spat. 

“So can you shapeshift into anything?” Sakuya asked, eyes bright. “Is it magic? Are you a Witch? Or is that a Caster ability?” 

The shapeshifter swallowed his bite and shook his head. “Uh… no. It’s—I’m a changeling.” 

Yuki stiffened. “Changelings aren’t real, that’s a myth.” 

“Said the brownie,” Banri muttered. 

“ _Watch it._ I’ll shove my foot so high up your ass you could tie my laces with your tongue.” 

Their guest frowned. “Changelings _are_ real. We're just not that common anymore.” 

“Changeling?” Sakuya asked, glancing at Tsuzuru. 

Tsuzuru glanced at the intruder who blanched white in shame. He sipped his condensed milk. 

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said simply. 

Sakuya nodded and then turned back. “You’re from the ball, aren’t you? The one who handed me the trophy. Thank you for that, by the way.” 

The self-proclaimed changeling blinked a few times. He looked… shy. “You remember me?” 

“Mhm! I’m good at remembering faces, it’s honestly one of the few things I’m confident in.” 

Silence. The changeling cleared his throat and sniffed, wiping his nose with a finger. “Yeah. That was me. People usually don’t remember.” 

“So what’s your name?” 

He winced. “I’m not supposed to tell you.” 

“You might as well,” Tsuzuru jumped in. “You already messed up whatever mission Reni sent you out on. The suit’s already drafted. If my parents have anything to say about it, Reni’s going to be out of office by two sundowns. One, if mom orders in Chinese instead of cooking dinner.” 

At the word mom, he was suddenly reminded of someone missing. 

“Where’s Omi?” 

Banri whistled. “Oh, shit, I completely forgot about that guy.” 

“Hundred yen!” 

“Shut _up_ , Misumi, no one gives a fuck about the swear jar!” 

“Where’s Omi?” Tsuzuru repeated, blood going cold. 

Banri and the shapeshifter both glanced at the bathroom. 

“OH MY GOD!” the Caster dropped his pizza and went running, only to find the werewolf still on the cold tiles. “YOU _LEFT HIM HERE?_ WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU GUYS.” 

Everyone in the living room looked at each other, shrugged, and continued eating.

* * *

“We’re going to lock you in with Runes,” Tsuzuru said. 

Taichi looked around the bare room. “I thought—I thought I was gonna go back in the basement.” 

“Yeah, well, so did the rest of us until Sakuya started crying, so… spare dorm it is. Don’t get used to it, when the Director and Citron's back we’re going to be questioning you for all you’re worth. And be _grateful,_ Banri wanted to skip the wait and go ahead with breaking your kneecaps.” 

Taichi didn’t know if he was kidding or not. If he was, then he certainly wasn’t acting like it. He watched Tsuzuru Minagi scribble in a sequence of Runes on the doorframe, then the windows. Taichi didn’t know a lot of Runes but he knew that anything more than ten meant he was probably going to get zapped upon attempting escape. 

Tsuzuru waved over his shoulder. “Only Coven members can enter and leave your room now. Goodnight, changeling.” 

“Goodnight,” Taichi said softly. 

He sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. 

It must be nice, to be a student here. 

He remembered being Sakuya Sakuma and approaching Izumi Tachibana in the café. It was as a spy, yeah—Reni had given him the Hanasaki Academy uniform and the assignment to copy her for this specific infiltration. But it’d been nice. Seeing her smile at him and be encouraging. Sakuma was lucky. 

“ _The responsibility to do well is on me as your teacher and not you as a student_.” 

He flopped back and stared at the ceiling. 

“ _How has school been?_ ” 

It’d been a while since someone had asked him that. School was necessary but it wasn’t like Mayor Reni ever cared if he did well or not. His grades didn’t matter since he’d be working for the Council for a very long time. 

“ _You’re still pretty much a kid and you should be allowed to be a kid_.” 

“ _Yeah. You can have a hug_.” 

A lot of her words had been running around in his head for the past few days, unable to leave. It must be _really_ nice to be a student here. It must be awesome to be a magician. 

His life would have been a lot better if he’d been born a magician.

* * *

He was hungry. 

Taichi curled in on himself and eyed the clock. 1 AM. Still at least five or six hours to go before he was let out and he could get something to eat. If his stomach growled one more time, he was going to start crying. 

Almost on cue, his stomach let out a monstrous cry for snacks. Taichi’s eyes welled with tears in self pity. 

Someone knocked on the door. 

“ _Hello?_ ” an unfamiliar voice asked. “ _Is someone there?_ ” 

“ _Matsukawa, you old fart, are you hearing things again?_ ” 

Taichi sat up and wrapped a blanket over his shoulders. Matsukawa Isuke, the manager of the Coven. His file had been very short. The guy liked music, took care of the Coven when it’d been shut down, and had a pet bird. Didn’t spend much time in the Coven’s building anymore. That was about all. 

Matsukawa opened the door and peeked inside. He blinked a few times as he and Taichi stared at each other. 

Then Matsukawa settled on the floor right outside of Taichi’s dorm. “Well, you’re new. Who are you?”

Taichi frowned and didn’t say anything. 

“Ahh, the cool and silent brooding type, huh? I could never pull that off when I was your age. I tried, mind you! Got my hair dyed purple and wore ripped jeans that made my mother cry. Still couldn’t manage it. Anyways… why are you here?" 

“I, uh…” Taichi wet his lips. “I tried to infiltrate the Coven. From the Council.” 

“Oh! But you got caught, huh?” 

Taichi hung his head and Matsukawa snickered. 

“Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s like every time I pop back in to check out what’s going on, there’s a new situation at hand.” Matsukawa yawned. “You look young. though How old are you?” 

“Sixteen.” 

“That’s _young_ to be working for the Council.” 

Taichi fiddled his thumbs. “…It was the only work I could find in magic society.” 

“Sounds about right. So, magician?” 

“…Changeling.” 

Matsukawa’s eyebrows rose all the way up. “Changelings are _real?_ ” 

Taichi let that burning take over his body and switched to Sakuya. He watched Matsukawa’s eyes blow up and mouth open wide in shock. He melted back. 

“ _Profound_. Life must not have been easy for you.” 

Taichi winced, shame filling him once more. “You know?” 

“I think most of us have been told cautionary tales of changelings growing up. How did the nursery rhyme go? _Sleep, sleep, close your eyes and lay; lest the elves break in and steal you away_.” 

Taichi nodded silently. 

Matsukawa held out a hand. “You want to grab a snack? I could hear your stomach from all the way outside.” 

Taichi crept out of bed until he reached the threshold. He knocked his knuckles on the Rune wall and yelped when he got shocked. 

Matsukawa chortled. “That Tsuzuru… You don’t _look_ dangerous. They really Runed you in to this extent?” 

“Yeah. He said only Coven members can go in and out.” 

“Ehhhh… Sorry, kid, I’m a Fifthborn Caster and I can’t read Runes for the life of me. I’d let you out if I could. Guess you’ll have to stay—OH!” Matsukawa gasped like he’d just had the most amazing idea. “Coven members can go in and out?” 

“Y-Yes?” 

He bolted for the office and returned with a leather-covered ledger. He flipped open to a blank page and offered Taichi a pen. 

The changeling stared at it. “Huh?" 

Matsukawa bobbed his head in excitement. “Sixteen, you said? You’re eligible then. Want to join the Coven?” 

“ _Huh?_ ” 

The Manager pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, grinning from ear to ear. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? The best way to neutralize a threat would be to have them join our side! Come on, let’s do it before either Tsuzuru or the Director shave me bald. They’ve threatened to do it before and I think this might push them over the edge.” 

Taichi tried to put his thoughts in order. “But—what?” 

“If you join the Coven, you could pass through the Rune wall. You look hungry, you’re an enemy, so why not? This sounds like the best idea.” 

A pink bird squawked, landing on Matsukawa’s head. He pecked the manager’s head angrily. “ _Matsukawa, you dolt! This is the worst idea of all time!_ ” 

“Ahhhh, don’t be so mean, Kamekichi, you know I’m sensitive.” 

Taichi stared at the ledger and his heart felt like it was hiccuping. He shook his head and took a step back. “I shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“I… I’m not—It’s not a good idea. I was supposed to put together information to—Mayor Reni wants to shut you guys down real bad. It doesn’t make sense for you to let me out.” 

Matsukawa’s eyes went a little soft. He withdrew the ledger and tucked it under his arm. 

“Changeling,” he said, “my father helped maintain this Coven for thirty-five years before passing the torch on to me. Mankai Coven was shut down for almost a decade before the Director appeared to re-open it but the mission has always been the same. We’re a home to any young magician who needs it.” 

“I’m not a magician,” Taichi whispered. 

Matsukawa smiled wide. “Ah! Director’s already made changes to _that_. The beauty of time and new beginnings! Mythics are allowed now, we’ve got a brownie and a demon and a wraith and blessed and everything!” 

Taichi flinched. “Wraith?!” 

“Ohhh, you work for the Council. Forget I said anything!” Matsukawa fixed his tie. “I’m wiped so I’ll be heading to bed soon. Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you a snack?” 

“…Nachos? Do you have nachos?” 

“Nachos it is, kid.”

* * *

Banri wondered if it was instinct at this point or if Hyodo was about as inconspicuous as a fart in the middle of a lecture but he woke up. He sat up in bed. Hyodo stood in the middle of his room, moonlight from the window just barely lighting up his—claws? He was in wraith form again. But… different. A little. Less “I’ll kill you” and more… well, he still looked pretty murderous. But there was an unfamiliar _grief_ clinging to his face. Banri glanced at the clock. It was only 1 in the morning. 

“What the fuck’s up with you?” Banri murmured, shaking off the last bits of drowsiness. “Why do you look like an emo band album cover?" 

Juza swallowed thickly. “I… I saw my brother today.” 

Shit. Right. Hyodo had a brother. Fifteen-ish? 

“How is he?” 

The Adam’s apple in Juza's throat bobbed. He bit his lower lip so hard, Banri wondered if it was possible for him to bleed while a ghost. “He’s in a _wheelchair_.” 

“…Shit, man. I’m sorry.” 

Banri’s eyes widened as he watched Juza’s form flicker like a candle in the wind. Juza rubbed his eyes with the back of his talons despite no tears being there. The dead couldn’t cry, after all. “He—I didn’t even know. I thought I was the only one who got hurt. Muku didn’t tell me.” 

“He probably thought you knew, dude,” Banri said softly. “Sakisaka’s not the type to hide things. He blurts things out all the time.” 

“I didn’t _know_ ,” Juza whispered. “I didn’t even fucking—I thought it was only me, it was okay if it was only me. He’s paralyzed from the waist down.” 

“Hyodo—” 

“Kumon loves sports, especially baseball. He can’t even fuckin’ play anymore. They have a little picture of me on an altar and— _fuck_.” 

If Banri didn’t know any better, he would have thought Juza was having a panic attack. But ghosts didn’t have panic attacks. They just suffered in the in-between of the living and the afterlife. All Juza would do was suffer. Know but never be able to do anything. 

Banri rubbed his chest. Why didn’t that make him feel better? Why didn’t it give him a little bolt of satisfaction? 

Ah. 

Because it wasn’t suffering _he_ inflicted, maybe. 

“I wanted to die,” Juza said suddenly. “When I was alive. I wanted to die." 

Banri shuddered. “Jesus fucking Christ, man, that’s so heavy.” 

“I wanted to. I went to school during suspension—followed that Hunter guy in his car. I went… I went to my high school and I sat in one of the classes and I remembered—how much it fuckin’ _sucked_. How much I hated it, a-and, and how much I fucking hated being alive, and I remembered how I wanted to die—" 

Banri wished Juza would just cry. Crying was better than listening to this. Crying he could tune out and not give a shit about. This was infinitely worse. 

But the dead did not cry. 

The dead only suffered. 

“And then I _did_ die and I was so fuckin’ stupid. I wanted it and I asked for it and then I got it, I got a car crash that ruined my entire fucking family and offed _me_ and…” Juza clamped his lips shut, curling up to run his hands through his hair. “ _Fuck_. It’s all my fault.” 

“Don’t be so self-important.” 

Juza flicked a glance up. 

Banri clicked his tongue and leaned back until his back hit the wall. “I read the fuckin’ newspaper article. It was a drunk driver. Unless you were the one who poured him a shot and forced him into the driver’s seat, it wasn’t your fucking fault, you egotistical bastard.” 

“I was so _stupid_.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re kind of a fucking idiot, sorry you had to find out this way. Learn your goddamn lesson, just don’t make the same mistake next time." 

Juza frowned and opened his mouth. Banri didn’t let him even start. 

“And stop moping, you can’t pull it off with your thug face. I already told you, didn’t I? I’m bringing you back to life whether you like it or not. There’s no point in getting all depressed about being dead since I’m going to fix it.” 

He flopped onto his side, turning away so he could stop seeing him. “Now get the fuck out of my room, I’m sleeping. If you’re a wraith, you can wake me up, just shake me or something instead of just standing there for a few hours.” 

“…You’re going to bring me back? Promise?” 

Banri’s face twitched. “Not for you, asshole. It’s for myself. Luckily for you, I’ve been real fucking bored lately.” 

Juza flipped him over so they were face-to-face. Banri scowled. “The FUCK, I told you to piss off!” 

He held out a claw. “Promise me.” 

“ _Pinky promise?_ Dude, that’s so fucking gay, what’s wrong with you.” 

“Promise me you’re going to bring me back.” 

Banri pressed his lips together. He reached forward and curled a pinky around the wraith’s talon. “I promise I’m going to bring you back, Hyodo.” 

And his pinky passed though as Juza switched back to being just a ghost once more.

* * *

Sakyo woke up with a crick in his neck. He blinked and reached for the glasses on his nightstand before realizing he was not in his bedroom, he’d fallen asleep on his couch. And two people were weighing him down. He looked down to see Izumi lying her head on one thigh, that Seer on the other. 

He hesitated and then moved a little to jostle them awake. 

Izumi held up a hand. 

“If you move right now,” she hissed through her teeth, “I’m going to throw up all over your nice carpet. Don’t _fucking_ move.” 

Hm. 

Citron chuckled weakly. “Director has very bad hangovers. Do not take offense, Saxophone.” 

“My name is Sakyo.” 

“Saxophone.” 

“ _Sakyo_.” 

“Sexyphone.” 

“How did you get it even _more_ incorrect?” 

Izumi slowly forced herself to sit up. Her face was pale and her eyes bloodshot. There was a pounding in her head that refused to go away but that was just the price one paid for a blissful night of nothing but woozy, alcohol-induced bliss. One night had gone by where she had shirked her duties like a kid, now it was time to be solution-oriented like an adult. 

Her stomach churned and she flopped over. 

Actually, maybe it was time to be nauseous as an adult. _Then_ she could be solution-oriented. Thank god she hadn’t eaten anything or else it would have been all over this beautiful couch. _Fuck_ Sakyo for having nice furniture. 

“Can I have breakfast?” she asked. “You feed your prisoners, don’t you?” 

“You’re not a ‘prisoner’, Director,” Sakyo said with a sigh. He pushed Citron off of his lap (who let out a high-pitched whine in response) and went to the kitchen. “I’d expect you to drink more responsibly from now on. How do you like your eggs?” 

“Scrambled.” 

He shook his head. “Childish.” 

“What? What’s childish about scrambled eggs, Gordon Ramsay says…” Ohhh, there was that new wave of nausea. She curled up and squeezed her eyes shut, begging the sick feeling to pass. There was an awfully quivering in her limbs. Greasy food would probably help. “Can I have bacon too?” 

“What’s the magic word, Director Tachibana?” 

This _asshole_. He was outright enjoying her misery, wasn’t he? 

“Please,” she managed. 

“Since you asked so politely, I suppose so. Anything to make sure you don’t cry again.” 

“What? I did _not_ cry last night.” 

Citron raised his head to grin at her. “You did.” His face plopped down onto the cushion. 

She stewed in her ire, sinking into the couch further. “You’re both awful. I’m supposed to stay here for how long again?” 

“About thirty-six more hours, give or take a couple,” Sakyo told her as he put a pan of bacon onto another stove. 

Izumi frowned. Thirty-six hours. The Coven would be fine, wouldn’t it? Hm, yeah. They’d be just fine.

* * *

Omi woke up to the fire alarm going off. 

He shot up, head pounding. Where was he? The—had he fallen asleep on the couch? What had happened last night? 

“Put it out, put it out!” Yuki yelled. “Oh my—NO! STOP! YOU CAN’T PUT WATER ON AN OIL FIRE, YOU HACK!” 

“Why not?! Water puts out fire!” 

“ _NOT OIL FIRE, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? HOW MANY TIMES DID YOUR NANNY DROP YOU ON YOUR HEAD!_ ” 

“ONLY ONCE!” 

Sakuya laughed awkwardly, taking a step between Yuki and Tenma to act as a human shield before one flung himself at the other. “It’s okay guys, it’s just a little fire. Let’s take it down a notch. Tenma, maybe you should turn the stove off?” 

Tsuzuru slammed the door to his lab open, one of his eyes twitching wildly from either caffeine-overconsumption or sleep-deprivation or an unfortunate mix of both. “WHY do I smell something BURNING? I told you all to make cereal!” 

“I wanted bacon on my cereal so I told Tenma to make me some,” Masumi said flatly. 

“What? Who the, _bacon on your cereal?_ ” Tsuzuru waved his hands in the air. “Ohhh, pardon me your highness, didn’t know you rich kids ate meat with your breakfasts. When I was your age, my mom sent me off to school with nothing but a box of communion wafers so can’t relate. Good Lord, you’re all ridiculous.” 

“Don’t make this into a class thing.” 

“Everything’s a class thing! Capitalism has us all _fucked_ and you’re here, Mister High and Mighty, wanting _bacon_ with your _cereal_ and _setting the kitchen on fire!_ ” 

“Tenma set the kitchen on fire, not me,” Masumi pointed out. 

Tenma went bright red as Sakuya helped him lay a damp rag on the blazing pan, quickly dousing the flames. “I set A PAN ON FIRE, not the entire kitchen! Shove off!” 

There was the sound of the front door opening. Misumi ran through the living room still wearing his shoes, a black bag in his hand. “Coming through! Coming through! Breakfast for Monica! Fish!” 

Omi took in a deep breath through his nose and wondered if he should just pretend he was still unconscious. No, that wasn’t right, was it? He sat up and brushed off his pants. 

“Let me cook the bacon,” he said warmly. 

Tsuzuru fell into his arms. “Omi, have I ever told you how much of a dynamite guy you are?” 

The werewolf chuckled and righted the Caster. “Thanks, Tsuzuru. Would you like breakfast?” 

“Uhhh…” he rummaged through the fridge and took out a can of spray cheese. “I’m good for now. See you later, my entire family’s on a google doc right now and things are getting heated.” 

He disappeared back to the lab. 

Omi looked around and sighed. “Can someone explain to me what happened since last night? One second I was guarding the door, then I woke up.” 

“Changeling!” Sakuya said brightly. He pointed down the hall. “Kazunari’s letting him out now. Also, Matsukawa’s back home!” 

“Ah… It’s been a while since he was here last. Did he eat?” 

“He’s still sleeping, Kamekichi’s been trying to wake him up for ten minutes.” 

Kazunari entered the dining room with all the bravado of a twice-gold medal winning Olympian, arm around someone’s shoulders. Omi squinted. 

“You’re familiar. I’ve seen you before at the Main Hall,” he remarked as he slid the burnt pan away in favor of a new one. 

He lay a few strips of bacon out and basked in the familiar sound of them sizzling. The changeling’s stomach growled loudly. 

Yuki sniffed. “Are you some kind of pit? You had almost two entire pizza pies yesterday.” 

The changeling could only offer a tense smile. “Sorry. Changelings have big appetites.” 

“Good! Because Omimi’s totes our best and sexiest cook!” Kazunari said, plopping the changeling into a chair. “Now show off your best assets besides that ass, Omimi!” 

Omi had to laugh. Not a dull moment at Mankai, really.

* * *

Taichi stared at the ceiling, alone with his thoughts once more. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d left the Main Hall for this long in his real form. School was usually the only time when he could exit and return like this. 

He lifted his hand and looked at the back of it. At each line in his knuckles, his stubby fingernails. 

Real form… This was his real form, wasn’t it? 

Mayor Reni was going to be very upset with him for messing this job up. Mayor Reni—Taichi shuddered. He was going to get fired for sure. His hand plopped down to the mattress. 

Maybe he’d be able to find a job like this in another city. Or maybe Taichi would be forced to go back home, look his parents in their eyes and tell them that he’d messed up and that they were all he had left. Ask them if they’d be willing to take him back and move out when he was 18 like normal kids. 

Normal… 

Someone knocked on his door. It was Minagi. 

“Mayor’s on the phone,” Tsuzuru said loftily, a sneer twisting his face. “Said he wants to talk to the Director. You know what to do, right?” 

Taichi fought the quiver in his lip. He got up and switched to Izumi Tachibana, sweeping back the long brown hair that weighed his head down. “Yeah.” 

Tsuzuru grimaced. “It doesn’t get less weird seeing you do that. Just this once." 

Izumi lifted the phone. “Hello?” 

“ _Nanao. How is the infiltration going? Are you on your own?_ ” 

She smiled sadly and waved at Tsuzuru. “Hey, gimme a moment of privacy.” 

Tsuzuru made a face and made exaggerated footstep noises on the floorboards. Yeah, Taichi didn’t think he’d leave him alone. 

“They haven’t found anything out yet, Mayor,” Taichi whispered. 

“ _Hm. And information collection?_ ” 

Taichi squeezed his eyes shut. “Going. They… a lot of their information is kept under lock. It hasn’t been easy to get anything." 

“ _Alright. You have thirty hours remaining before we pull you out. Get what you went for_.” 

“Yes, sir.” Taichi took in a deep breath to steel his nerves. “M-Mayor Reni? If… If I think they’re suspicious and—and they might find something out…” 

Tsuzuru leapt to his feet, gesturing wildly for Taichi to hang up the call. His brow was creased angrily but Taichi _had to know._ For whatever faults Mayor Reni had, he was the only man who had been willing to accept Taichi and give him a spot to call home-away-from-home. 

“That wouldn’t hurt you, would it?” Taichi asked. 

Silence. Taichi’s stomach twisted. 

Reni chuckled. “ _You haven’t disappointed me yet, Nanao. Let’s not think up of worst-case hypotheticals. I can guarantee you that your discovery will not be my downfall in any way. Now hang up._ ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Taichi clicked the phone down. Yelped when Tsuzuru smacked his shoulder. 

“Good job being slick, genius,” he muttered. “Change back and go to your room. I can’t _believe_ you.”

* * *

“Banri!” Misumi whisper-yelled. He waved the blessed closer. “C’mere! I need your help!” 

Banri came over, hands in his pockets. Misumi was a weirdo. Fun, usually got into messes that made the day interesting, but a weirdo. It would probably be best to be on his toes around the Witch. 

“I’m supposed to be meeting with Sakuma, he texted me.” 

“No, no, I texted you, I just took Sakuya’s phone for a bit! This is really important though so I’m pretty sure he won’t mind." Misumi pointed to Monica. “That’s Monica.” 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know.” 

Misumi tugged his sweatshirt’s neckline and a pink head popped out. “This is Kamekichi!” 

“Bitch, I know, we did a heist with that rat with wings.” 

“ _RUDE!_ ” Kamekichi snapped. 

Misumi huffed and smacked Banri’s shoulder. “Be nice to Kamekichi! He’s a very handsome guy and we’re good friends! We’re the same age.” 

“My _ass_ you two are the same age.” 

“It’s true! We’re both nineteen!” Misumi gave Kamekichi’s head a doting little scratch. “Kamekichi, why don’t you tell Banri what you told me? I’m sure he can help us, Ban’s good at lots of things.” 

Kamekichi squawked nervously. “ _Is he good at keeping secrets_?” 

“No,” Banri said flatly. 

Misumi gave him that look again. “Yes, Banban’s good at everything!” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

Kamekichi hid his face shyly behind a wing. This was already shaping up to be one of the weirdest days for Banri and that was saying something when he was now part of a school that taught magicians. There was something about having a conversation with a One Eyed Witch and a pink cockatoo that felt unreal and too abstract to fully comprehend. 

“I _…_ ” Kamekichi sighed dreamily. “ _I think I’m in love_.” 

“What.” 

“ _Monica. My heart’s been stolen ever since I lay eyes on her. She’s, she’s beautiful and so PROVOCATIVE!_ ” 

Banri leaned back and squinted. Then squinted at the shoebill stork that was pecking at the ground. 

“How the fuck is that ugly ass monster _provocative_ ,” he snapped. 

Both Misumi and Kamekichi gasped. 

“Hey!” Misumi complained. “Monica’s a beauty! You take that back.” 

“ _Are you blind, blessed? Have you not seen her legs? Look at how much she’s showing off!_ ” 

Banri looked. “Dude. She’s a stork. She’s literally like sixty percent leg.” 

“ _I know! It’s so sexy. I want her to have my kids._ ” 

“ _Bro_. She is like forty times your size.” 

Kamekichi ruffled his feathers. “ _So? I’ve always had a thing for bigger women_.” 

“Oh my God.” 

Misumi pressed a kiss onto Kamekichi’s head. “Kamekichi wants to make a move! But I dunno how to flirt so I thought I’d ask you. Do you have any tips?” 

Banri could not believe his ears. “I have tips for _humans_. Not fucking storks, Misumi.” 

“Storks, people… there’s not that much of a difference, right?” 

Banri leaned forward and slapped his hands on Misumi’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. “I’ve been wondering this for a while but truly what is wrong with you. Like, you’re cursed, right? Or a spell went really wrong in your past and you’ve just been weird ever since?” 

“Booooo, you’re being so mean. C’mon, Kamekichi, you can go talk to Monica! Banban and I will go with you as emotional support!” 

“No, I fuckin’ wo—WHOA!” Banri stumbled as Misumi seized the back of his shirt and hauled him forward. For a guy who smiled like a guest star on Sesame Street, Misumi was absurdly strong. He swore under his breath as he was dragged towards the nesting shoebill. 

“Hiiiiii, Monica,” Misumi said, crouching. He leaned his face forward and Monica did the same, bopping her beak against his nose. It was the weirdest thing Banri had seen. “My friend Kamekichi wants to say something to you.” 

He pulled down the front of his sweatshirt again. Kamekichi burrowed deeper. 

“ _I’m too shy, man_ ,” Kamekichi whined in a small trill. “ _T-Tell her… Tell her I think she’s really pretty_.” 

“Kamekichi says you’re really pretty!” Misumi whispered like he was relaying a secret. 

“ _Tell her her feathers are very nice_.” 

“And your feathers are very nice!” 

Banri put a hand to his forehead. “What the fuck is happening?”

* * *

Misumi let out a fluttering sigh and rested his head on the sliding glass door. Tsuzuru emerged from the lab, eyes somehow even redder than they’d been when he had gone in. Every and all Minagi that could spell properly had been editing the lawsuit, tacking on as many complaints and infractions they could remember Reni Kamikizaka committing in office. He’d spent fifty minutes explaining to his mother that “not enforcing christianity” to magicians was not something to get mad at. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “It’s pretty late. Most everyone else is sleeping.” 

Banri shot up on the carpet. “Ugly nerd, you’ve got to help me.” 

“That’s not my name, Banri. Aren’t you usually home by now?” 

“Minagi! _Misumi’s not letting me go_. This is a fucking hostage situation, I had to text my parents and lie that I was spending the night with a friend.” 

Misumi put his fists on his hips and puffed his chest out with pride. “We’re Kamekichi’s trusty wingmen, Banban. We have to make sure everything goes well! That means we don’t sleep or go until they do.” 

Tsuzuru sipped his coffee and wondered if this was worth digging into. Eh, whatever. He’d bite. He had time. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

Misumi pointed outside. “Kamekichi and Monica are flirting with each other!” 

Tsuzuru chuckled. “Wingmen. Funny. Get it? Because that Kamekichi asshole’s a bird. Birds have wings. Nice.” 

Banri clenched his teeth so hard, he could almost hear his molars cracking. This Coven was going to drive him insane. Tsuzuru was only smart when he was functioning properly and right now, his reaction time was slower than molasses. 

“Loooook,” Misumi sang, leaning his head tenderly on Tsuzuru’s shoulder. “They’re canoodling in the moonlight! That’s so cute, I’m so happy for them. I hope they take it nice and slow and that they treasure each other forever.” 

Tsuzuru sipped his coffee even louder. He pursed his lips, squinting to make sure he was seeing things right. “Misumi. Don’t know how to break it to you. That’s not canoodling.” 

“Hm?” 

“That’s how birds have sex.” 

Banri’s jaw dropped. He forced himself to his feet and stumbled over to the glass door, trying to get a look himself. “You’re _fucking_ me.” 

“No. Kamekichi’s fucking Monica though." 

Misumi let out a noise like he’d just been stepped on, sounding very much like a scandalized grandmother. He lunged for the door like he was ready to tear the two birds apart, uncaring about whether or not he lost a finger in the process. “No! It’s too soon! They’re—they’re not ready for that yet, we have to stop them!” 

Banri grabbed him and forced him away, gawking at the two birds outside re-enacting National Geographic. “Kamekichi’s a fuckin’ chad? Let’s gooooo, about time we had one in this Coven. Good for him, _good_ for him, man, I’m so proud. That’s my _boy_.” 

“Banriiiii, nooooooo! We have to stop theeeeem!” 

“Man, Kamekichi, I can’t believe he’s a slut. Actually, I can totally believe it, I’m surprised _Monica’s_ a slut.” 

Another wail tore out of Misumi as he struggled. “They’re not sluts! Take it back, tell them to stop! They have to get married first! It’s only been a few hours, this can’t be right!” 

Tsuzuru took another slurp and finally looked away. “I’m going back to my lab. This… has been weird. The Coven in general is weird but I think we reached a new low today. Goodnight." 

“Yes, Kamekichi, that’s my fuckin’ BOY!” Banri whooped, pumping a fist in the air. 

Misumi sobbed, “Banri, it’s too soon! I’m not ready to be an uncle! MAKE THEM STOOOOOP!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So SOMEONE asked me if I had any romantic pairings for this fic in plan, and I said "haha yeah the first official couple is in chapter 27" and i'm really sorry if this got people like.... ANXIOUS KDFJNGSDFG
> 
> I've planned monikichi ever since thinking of bringing her in and, wipes my eyes, do not regret it. The fic isn't even at 200k y'all what slowburn would it be if i introduced couples this early... for now and for the next several chapters, make do with 2 birds in love and Sweet, Tiny Shipping Moments


	28. Tenma Finally Gets McDonalds But It's Pretty Mediocre

“Are you crazy?” Tsuzuru asked. “Sakuya, say you’re kidding.” 

The Witch squirmed. “I mean—it can’t be that bad, right?” 

“He walked in here wearing the Director’s face trying to get evidence for the Council to shut us down!” 

Sakuya chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “So it was a really good thing that Muku was here to catch him, right? I think he looks sorry about it! Either way, staying stuck here can’t be fun so… Let him go out with us when we come back from school. Please, Tsuzuru? Please? Drama club's cancelled for today, we’d be back before the Director!” 

“No! It’s not supposed to be fun, he’s essentially a hostage so _we_ can get back at the Mayor!” 

Sakuya clasped his hands together. “Pleeeeeaaaaase? I feel so bad for him. He’s just stuck in his room all day and we can’t just keep giving him crossword puzzles to keep busy. You won’t even let him watch TV with us, it’s mean." 

“ _No!_ Do I have to remind you about the whole IMPOSTER situation again?” 

“…With a cherry on top?” 

“NO!” 

Sakuya took in a deep breath and crossed his arms. “Don’t make me do it, Tsuzuru. I really don’t want to.” 

The Caster wet his lips, suddenly feeling nervous. “…Do what?” 

“I’ll tell the Director.” 

“Tell her _what?_ ” 

Sakuya’s frown deepened. “Itaru told me you had him break the changeling’s fingers. And _Matsukawa_ told me he’s only sixteen. You know exactly what she’s going to think about that.” 

Oh, this kid was definitely spending way too much time with Banri Settsu. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tsuzuru said carefully, entirely unsure if Sakuya _would_ dare. He had those small sparkles in his eyes that made him unpredictable. 

“I won’t if you let him go with us on our McDonalds trip,” Sakuya said, holding up his palm. “Swear!" 

Tsuzuru fell into the Director’s office chair and clapped a hand over his eyes, groaning.

* * *

Taichi sat up straight when his door opened. Sakuya Sakuma stood there, eyes bright and still wearing his school uniform. 

“Hi,” he said cheerfully. “I’m sorry I still don’t know your name. Do you want to go out with us?” 

Taichi blinked. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Hanasaki Academy must have just been let out. 

“Go out where?” Taichi asked. 

Sakuma moved aside to show Usui and Sumeragi standing behind him. “Tenma’s never been to McDonalds before so we had a field trip in mind. I know you’ve been stuck here all of yesterday and the night before so I thought you’d like to come with.” 

“…McDonalds?” 

Sumeragi scowled and made air quotes. "’The best of the mediocre,’ is what they told me.” 

“I can’t leave the room unless the Runes are lifted,” Taichi said softly. 

“That’s what I’m here for.” 

Taichi flinched when Minagi popped his head in. He waved a hand and the Runes around the doorframe flared back to light. With a finger flick this way, a wrist swish that, he dispelled them in just a moment before holding up two bracelets. 

“You wear this one,” Minagi said flatly, “Sakuya wears the other. You stray more than ten yards from his side and four Shock Runes go off. That’ll be enough to stun you for the two Hunters to bring you back. If I hear you attempted escape, it’s back to the basement with Blessed you go.” 

Taichi shuddered. 

Few things scared him as bad as that blessed boy did. 

“He’s kidding,” Sakuma said, clapping his own bracelet on. “You won’t go back to the basement.” 

“I’m not kidding.” 

“ _Yes,_ you are! And Ba—Blessed isn’t that bad, I promise. He’s really good at the Rubik's cube.” 

Minagi made a face. “Where is he, by the way?” 

Sakuma’s lips clamped shut. Usui slipped off his headphones and said, “Skipped classes again.” 

“Masumi! You shouldn’t tattle.” 

Minagi rolled his eyes. “That kid…" 

Taichi hesitated. Leaving didn’t sound like a good idea for any party involved but… McDonalds. Food. He slipped the bracelet around his wrist and got off of the bed. Minagi followed the four boys to the entryway, groaning upon catching sight of the guard that sat on the floor. 

“Omi, what have we said about you waiting at the door?” he said with a pained expression. 

Fushimi looked over his shoulder. Taichi choked on his tongue at the sight of how wrecked he looked. He’d looked just fine last night, what happened? 

“It’s never been this long before, Tsuzuru,” Fushimi whispered. He bit his lower lip. “I miss her so much.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Come on, let’s go turn on a romantic comedy for you to pine at. She’ll be back tonight.” 

Fushimi leaned his head on the wall and groaned louder. “I miss her.” 

“Mary in Heaven, Omi, come on. You’re embarrassing yourself in front of the kids. This is so sad.” 

“ _I miss her_. It’s affecting me so badly. I snarled at the mailman this morning like a monster. If she doesn’t come back soon, I’m going to start chasing the squirrels in the courtyard. Promise me you’ll knock me out before that happens, Tsuzuru. You can’t let me throw away my pride.” 

“I promise, Omi.” 

“What’s up with him?” Taichi asked Sakuma under his breath. 

Sakuma slipped his shoes on. “Um! Well, you know, it’s hard to say. Let’s just go." 

Fushimi let Minagi help him to his feet. “Do… Do you think she misses us too?” 

“I think she cried herself to sleep the past two nights because she misses us so much. She’s probably crying now too."

* * *

“SAKYO!” 

The Hunter dropped his pen and ran out of his bedroom at Izumi’s scream. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked hurriedly. 

Izumi’s eyes were as wide as saucers. She gestured with a bowl of grapes in hand to the Seer on the other side of the living room. Citron stood there, smiling pleasantly with his blindfold on. 

“You have to see this. It’s absolutely insane.” 

Izumi threw a grape across the room. Citron ducked and caught it in his mouth perfectly. 

Sakyo stared at him and then back at her. “Director Tachibana. Did you pull me from my work just to show me this?” 

“Isn’t it NUTS?” she screeched. Izumi threw another grape. Citron caught that one too, throwing his hands in the air and cheering. “I can’t even believe it. He’s caught every single one with the blindfold on, how is that even possible?!” 

“Director, he’s a _Seer_.” 

“STILL!” 

Izumi tossed a grape, this time like she was throwing a fastball. Citron opened his mouth wide and softened the blow with tongue so he wouldn’t end up choking on it. 

“ABSOLUTELY _RIDICULOUS_!” Izumi shouted. She shot Sakyo a look. “How are you not losing your mind at this? It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen!” 

Sakyo took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I fully expected you to just sit around and mope. Not engage in tomfoolery. Do you not miss your Coven?” 

“I miss them tons, thank you very much but—" She slung a surprise grape in the middle of her words. Citron caught it. “Fuck you, you miracle man. I miss them, but this was a _very_ needed vacation. Who knows, maybe the next time Citron and I need a break we’ll just throw something at Reni’s car to come back here.” 

“Please don’t.” 

“I’m kidding. Kind of.” Izumi winked at him. “They’ll be fine. I have full faith in the Coven to not do anything out of the ordinary while I’m gone."

* * *

“Tell us about yourself!” Sakuma asked as they walked down the street. 

Taichi stretched in the sunlight. It’d only been a few hours but he’d forgotten how good it could feel on his skin. “I’m not supposed to. I’m an undercover agent and everything, remember?” 

“Eh, right. I’ll go first! I’m Sakuya, this is Masumi,” a gesture, “and this is Tenma!” Another gesture. 

“I know,” Taichi said simply. 

“Ohhh, right, right. I guess you had to read up on all of us, yeah? Hey, what does my file say? I can’t believe I already have a file, that makes me feel special.” 

Sumeragi snorted but didn’t say anything. Taichi knew exactly what the Hunter was thinking. There was borderline palpable irony in the Firstborn Witch saying he felt special just because he had a file. Sakuya Sakuma was special just by being born. 

Born. 

Taichi bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. 

“How does your magic work?” Sakuma asked. “You can just turn into anybody you see?” 

Taichi shook his head. He wondered if it was a good idea to tell them anything at all, but… He’d been discovered. There was very little more he could do to hurt himself. 

“Physical contact,” he said. “Skin to skin. It’s, uh, like a photocopier. I can turn into anybody in that moment. Can’t copy magic though.” 

“Wow, that sounds _amazing_. That’s so cool.” 

Taichi swallowed nervously. They entered the McDonalds and Sumeragi took out his wallet. It was obvious he would be the one buying. 

“What did you call it again?” he asked, squinting at the menu. “Joy Meal?” 

“Happy Meal, Tenma. Look, you can even choose the toy! Isn’t that great?” Sakuma grinned at Taichi. “You want one too?” 

Taichi salivated at the smell of deep-fry oil and artery-clogging goodness. “Uh, I’ll have a Big Mac.” 

“You probably want more than one, huh.” 

Taichi nodded, refusing to let himself blush. “I’ll take… four.” 

“ _Four?_ ” Sumeragi repeated. 

“…Five.” 

“ _Five?!_ ” 

Sakuma laughed loudly. Usui clicked his tongue like they were being too loud for his liking and slinked away towards the sitting area. 

“Two Happy Meals, no lettuce or tomato, five Big Mac combos, and a coffee please,” Sumeragi said, handing his credit card over. “Black.” 

The person at the register rang them up. “What toys would you like for the Happy Meals?” 

“Uh…” Sumeragi glanced at Sakuma and then back to the attendant. “I’ll take the race car.” 

Sakuma nudged his back. “You can get what you want, I’m not going to make fun of you.” 

Taichi forced his smile down as red rose on the back of the Hunter’s neck. “…The pony figurine.” 

“Two, please!” Sakuma said.

* * *

“Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“…Gross.” 

“That’s so cool!” 

Taichi swallowed and reached for another Big Mac. He refused to return the three gawks trained on his eating. 

“Do you not chew?” Sumeragi asked. “How is that even possible, do you unhinge your JAW?” 

“Bug off,” Taichi said, shoving another burger into his gaping maw. He’d been so hungry stuck in that little dorm with no one to ask for snacks. The Matsukawa guy dropped by with another plate of chips and salsa but… Taichi reached for the large helping of fries in the middle of the table. 

“So you work for the Council, right?” Sakuma asked. 

Taichi nodded once. 

“Ehh, sounds difficult. Must be fun though, I bet you get to see magic stuff every day! I guess that’s the reason why you joined them instead of a Coven.” 

Sumeragi flicked Sakuma on his forehead. “Dumbass. There wasn’t a Coven until they reopened Mankai.” 

“Oh… I forgot about that.” 

There hadn’t been a Coven until Sakuya Sakuma needed a teacher. Until a Firstborn Witch came into the picture, there was no reason for people to care about anybody born outside of a Bloodline. No Firstborn Casters or Hunters, no mythics. Definitely no changelings. 

Taichi swallowed. “Is the Coven fun?” 

It looked fun. 

It looked warm and nice and full of laughter. Pizza parties. Hugs. Smiles. 

He shoved more fries into his face. 

Sakuma’s grin somehow grew even wider. “Pretty fun. The calm days are nice but ever since the little zombie problem, things feel like they haven’t been able to settle down.” 

The undead rising incident, right. The Witch responsible hadn’t been caught yet, said the file. 

Sakuma slid the pony forward. “You want it? I already have that one from a few years ago, I think they’re doing re-sells.” 

Taichi frowned, picking it up. He flipped it over in his hand. 

“Thanks.” Sakuya glowed. Taichi moved on. "W-What’s the Director like?” 

Usui frowned. “Don’t say her name.” 

“Masumi! Be nice.” Sakuya took a fry and nibbled the end. “I like the Director a lot. She’s pretty amazing, you know? Matsukawa told me he sent the letter off to Yukio Tachibana’s old house even though he’s been gone for a really long time and the Director showed up instead. But she was super ready to teach me magic, and she even found Tenma to be Masumi’s teacher!” 

“…Is she nice?” 

“Super nice.” 

Good. That was what he thought. That the Director was a nice person. 

“The Coven’s a nice home,” Sakuya said pleasantly. “I’m happy we have it.” 

His throat caught on something that wasn’t food. Taichi forced it down. “H-Home?” 

“Yeah. Home." 

Taichi reached for another burger before realizing he’d mowed through them all already. 

Sumeragi stood. “Well, this was truly the best of mediocre. Let’s get back to the dorms before Tsuzuru starts sending out a search party."

* * *

Tsuzuru picked up the ringing phone. “Hello?” 

“ _Ah, Minagi. Is Miss Tachibana in?_ ” 

He stuck a finger into his mouth and pantomimed gagging. No one was there to witness his theatrics but it was a necessity that came with talking to the Mayor at all times. A tradition started by his father that every one of the Minagi children had adopted. He could still remember the pride they all felt when the Mayor had come for Mitsuru’s baptism and the twins had said in unison “blegh!” right to his face. 

Obviously, the Mayor had stopped coming to the Minagi family’s baptisms ever since. How sad. 

“She’ll be right there, Mayor,” he said warmly and started towards the changeling’s room. 

There he sat on his bed again, staring at the wall with a gloomy expression on his face. Tsuzuru snapped his fingers to get his attention and then gestured to the phone in his hand. 

He watched the changeling shift back into the Director and shuddered. It was so _weird_. Little goosebumps rose in his skin as he handed the phone over. 

The details were immaculate. Itaru and Muku could probably tell better than he did, but just from having been in close quarters with the Director for the past couple of months, Tsuzuru _knew_. There were some spells to make vague resemblances, change hair color, grow the length, but this? This was on another level. Completely unfounded—exactly why changelings were dismissed as just myths within myths. 

“Hello?” the changeling said in her voice. 

Tsuzuru rubbed his arms. So creepy. 

He watched the Director’s brow crease.

* * *

“ _Your time is almost up, Nanao. Are you ready to make your leave? I hope you’ve collected an adequate amount of information._ ” 

Taichi didn’t know what to say. 

Reni stayed quiet for just a moment. “ _Nanao. Is your situation compromised_?” 

Taichi forced his lips tight together to stop the shameful shaking. 

“ _Answer me._ ” 

Taichi glanced at the Caster who looked expectant. For however confident Tsuzuru Minagi acted, he didn’t know how deep the Council worked. How many things Reni and everyone working on the board slid into the shadows, out of sight, out of criticism’s way. None of the people in the Coven had a _clue_ how cavernous the belly of the beast was and how many lives they could fit, to die as secrets. 

“Yes,” he whispered hoarsely. 

“ _I see. Have you found a cause for the Coven’s collapse though?”_

Taichi did. The demon, the unregistered blessed student, the possession of black magic books. “Yes." 

_"That will be all then. It was convenient to have you serve for the time you did, Nanao. A retrieval team will be sent for you tomorrow._ ” 

_Click_. 

Taichi shoved the phone into Tsuzuru’s hand and fought the urge to burst out crying. Fuck. He was so stupid. So, so stupid. That Seer wasn’t supposed to have been there, Reni said _specifically_ the Seers would be gone for the mission. 

* * *

_“Neutralized, sir?” Taichi had asked, flipping through the files of the Mankai Coven. “The… the both of them?”_

_Reni gave him a smile and pushed the plate of snacks forward. Taichi took a fistful and began munching._

_“It took only a curse on a classmate to set the Firstborn off,” Reni said. “His parents found it necessary to withdraw his presence for a week. Incredibly unstable thing. You understand why it’s dangerous to have such power go unchecked, don’t you, Nanao?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“Luckily, we have enough authority to perform an arrest on the older one for two days. That’s why it’s imperative for you to act quickly, Nanao.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

* * *

Taichi scrubbed his eyes as his throat closed up. He melted back into his true form. 

“You alright?” Minagi asked. 

No, he wasn’t _alright_. He’d fucked up. Taichi had worked so, so hard not to mess up on a mission before and now it was all for nothing. He’d needed only four more years of a spotless record to lock a guaranteed position on the Council and now it was— 

“Hey.” Tsuzuru ruffled his hair. “Relax. I know it feels like the end of the world but your job isn’t in jeopardy. If we get Reni out of office, then—” 

“You don’t know ANYTHING,” Taichi spat, slapping the hand away. “Mayor Reni _can’t_ get out of office. It’s impossible. If you want to tell yourself that and have something to work towards then be my guest but I know the truth. It can’t happen.” 

Minagi frowned. “Can’t happen? Of course it can happen. We make the case known and force a re-vote amongst the Bloodlines.” 

“So?” Taichi snapped. “In case you haven’t realized it, Mayor knows your family and a handful of others hate him. He’s spent his entire time in office making sure every other Bloodline stays loyal to his campaign and his legislation, there’s no point. The only person who gets shafted by this is _me_.” 

Tsuzuru squinted. He shook his head. “You’re being ridiculous. Whatever propaganda Reni’s been feeding you is wrong, you have no idea how many of the families in this city hate his existence.” 

Taichi sat on the bed and tried to stop the tears from spilling over. 

Hopeless. 

None of them had even the slightest clue. 

_Nothing_ could tear down the Mayor. 

The Coven was done for. 

Taichi hadn’t just lost his job, he’d destroyed a home. And the guilt was already tearing him to pieces. 

* * *

“Director, it’s your turn.” 

She looked away from the clock. “Right, right. Sorry." 

She slipped a Blue 2 on the pile. Citron grinned and slapped a Blue 7 down next. “Uno!” 

Sakyo gave him a dirty look. “You are not using your Seer powers just to win this game, I hope.” 

“Ah? Apologies! My Japanese is too poor to understand." 

The minute hand moved and Izumi tossed the table over. “FORTY-EIGHT HOURS. Citron, we’re leaving.” 

The Seer made a whining noise. “But the cookies are not done!” 

“Oh my god, we’ll bake another batch at the Coven, let’s _go_.” 

Sakyo stood up and gestured towards the door. “For all your insistence that you were enjoying this ‘vacation,’ you seem eager to leave. Would you like me to drive you back?” 

“Sue me, I miss the kids. Please, if you don’t mind.” 

Citron sighed and flicked his sole remaining card down. “Shame. My victory was set in stone.”

* * *

The first thing that happened when Izumi unlocked the door was getting nearly barreled over by a 6’2” wall of muscle. 

Omi buried his face into the side of her neck, nearly cracking a rib with the vigor he hugged with. “I missed you so much. _So much_. Welcome back, Director.” 

Izumi chuckled and patted his back. “Missed you too, Omi.” 

He squeezed her tighter and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Please don’t leave for that long again. I thought I was going to die.” 

Sakyo cleared his throat from behind her. 

Omi let go immediately and straightened his back, saluting. “Sir.” 

“Fushimi. You never fail to embarrass me.” 

Omi went red and didn’t let his saluting hand drop. “I apologize, sir. I did not know you were there.” 

“ _Tsk_. At ease.” 

Izumi brushed herself off and turned around to face the Hunter. “Thanks for dropping us off, Sakyo. And for the sweats, I’ll have them washed and sent back when I get the chance.” 

He sighed and then offered her the smallest smile known to man. “Do try to stay out of trouble, Director.” 

“My arrest was absolute bullshit and you know it.” 

“Perhaps. But we all know better than to question the Mayor and his ways.” Sakyo shook his head. “I know he may not be the most popular figure amongst the crowd you associate with but he’s succeeded in keeping the city safe, secure, and well-maintained. Give him that small credit at least.” 

“Hm.” Izumi clapped him on his shoulder. “Agree to disagree! Have a safe drive back, Sakyo.” 

Citron gave Sakyo a hug. “I will miss the haven that was your abode, Sexyphone.” 

Sakyo growled and shoved the Seer away. “Stop touching me.” 

With that, the head of police turned and returned back to his little minivan. Izumi made sure he was well out of sight before entering the Coven properly. 

“Nothing happened while I was out, I hope?” she asked. 

Omi winced. 

Hmmm, that wasn’t a good sign. 

Masumi did that thing where he hopped out of absolutely nowhere. “You’re back. I love you. Did you miss me?” 

Izumi sighed. At least one thing didn’t change. “Did you do your homework?” 

“Yes.” 

“Stay out of trouble at school?” 

“Yes.” 

Izumi tapped her foot. “Were you nice to the other students while I was gone?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright.” She patted his head. “Good to be back. Missed you too, Masumi.” 

The Hunter shut his eyes and if Izumi didn’t know any better, she would have thought there were two werewolves in the Coven now. Sakuya and Tenma emerged from the training room. The Witch gave her a tight hug. 

“Glad to have you back, Director,” he said warmly. “I hope you don’t get arrested again. It must not have been a fun experience to go through when drunk.” 

“To be completely honest, Sakyo’s apartment was amazing. Glad to be back though.” She ruffled his hair. “Did I miss anything?” 

Sakuya winced. 

Ooooohhhhh, definitely not a good sign. 

“Not that bad!” he remedied. 

Tenma snorted. 

“Where’s Tsuzuru?” she asked. 

Right on cue, the lab door opened. Tsuzuru jerked his chin towards the training room. 

“Students out,” he said simply. 

Masumi clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

Sakuya tugged him towards the training room. “Come on, Masumi, now isn’t the time for our teenaged rebellion.” 

Tsuzuru glanced at Tenma. The Hunter shrugged. “I’m a teacher. Did you forget?” 

“OUT.” 

“Ugh. Fine.” Tenma followed the other two to the training room. The second the door shut, Tsuzuru seized the Director around her shoulders. He began shaking her. 

“THE NEXT TIME YOU LEAVE ME IN CHARGE OF THIS HELL WITHOUT WARNING!” he bellowed. “I WILL _QUIT_. QUIT! I HATE IT HERE SO MUCH!” 

Izumi laughed as she was rocked back and forth. “Aw, you missed me.” 

“I’M GOING TO STRANGLE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!” 

“Tsuzuru, it’s not like she tried to get arrested,” Omi pleaded, trying to tug the Caster away. “It’s not the Director’s fault." 

“THEN WHY IS SHE SMILING! _STOP SMILING_!” 

Izumi did not, in fact, stop smiling as she peeled his hands off. “I bet you’re gonna be a lot more grateful to have me around from now on. About time. Where are the others?” 

“Banri’s been out the whole day doing delinquent shenanigans from what I can understand. Yuki’s been in his room working on a project ever since he got back from school, said no one’s to disturb him or he’ll, and I quote, ’turn them into a eunuch.’ Misumi left last night for Kazunari’s, probably in tears.” 

Izumi frowned. “In tears?” 

Tsuzuru waved her concern off. “Not that big of a deal, he’s just upset that Kamekichi fucked Monica.” 

Izumi choked. “KAMEKICHI FUCKED MONICA? Isn't Monica like... five feet tall? Isn't Kamekichi the size of a Subway sandwich? How does that even work?!” 

Citron covered his mouth. “Oh my. Good for Kamekichi. Monica is _very_ out of his court.” 

“League,” Omi corrected. 

“Monica is out of his league.” 

Tsuzuru closed his eyes to calm himself. “More importantly—" 

Izumi made him stop. “Wait. I need to tell you something we found out too.” 

“Director, we don’t have time.” 

She shook her head. "I promise you, no matter what you’re about to tell me, what I found out is infinitely more important. Citron, if you would?” 

The Seer sighed and tied the blindfold over his eyes, feeling his way to the other side of the living room. Izumi went to the kitchen and grabbed the first thing she could see, an animal cracker, and then flung it as hard as she could. Citron ducked, just barely catching it with his teeth before it hit the floor. The two of them threw their hands into the air and let out two “WOO!”s in unison. 

“Isn’t that the coolest thing you’ve ever seen?!” Izumi said, eyes sparkling. 

Tsuzuru stared at her gravely. 

Her hands dropped. “Oh no. _That_ bad?” 

“Unfortunately yes.”

* * *

Tsuzuru closed the door behind them. Gestured to the boy sitting on the bed. 

“Director, Citron,” he began tiredly. “This would be the changeling who entered the Coven on orders from the Council. He was disguised as you. Muku popped in before his family left and managed to sniff him out.” 

Izumi squinted. “Are those… my jeans?” 

The changeling flushed. 

Changeling. Izumi shook her head as she tried to wrap her head around that. Changelings… weren’t supposed to be real. They were supposed to be cautionary tales for misbehaving children. If you don’t do as your parents tell you to do, the elves will break in and swap you for one of their own. That was the story. 

Izumi straightened as a realization struck. 

“That’s why he wanted my clothes,” she said softly. 

Citron “ahh”ed and nodded. “I see.” 

Tsuzuru’s brow furrowed. “Backtrack?” 

“The guy who arrested me and Citron last night. He had me hand over my clothes because the Mayor asked for them.” She tugged at the hem of Sakyo’s sweats. “That was why. It was for you, wasn’t it?” 

The changeling didn’t say anything. 

“It was,” Citron murmured, stare locked dead-on to their guest. 

The changeling paled. 

Tsuzuru sighed in relief. “Finally we can get some answers around here.” 

Izumi stared at him. He looked young. 

“Hey,” she asked. “Is this your real form?” 

The changeling still did not speak. 

“It is,” Citron supplied. 

The kid went from pale to gray. Izumi rubbed her head. She’d only gotten back five minutes ago, this was getting ridiculous. She gestured. 

“Come to my office,” she said finally. “We’ll finish up the talk where all of us can sit.” 

Tsuzuru waved his hands and dispelled the Runes. The changeling rose from the bed and padded after them, head hung low.

* * *

“What’s your name?” Izumi Tachibana started. 

Taichi squeezed his eyes shut and tried his best to think about something else. Anything else. 

“Taichi Nanao,” the Seer said. 

Fuck. 

He watched the Fourthborn Witch lean forward on her elbows. She was really pretty. 

“Listen, kid,” she said, sounding so tired. “I don’t want to have to force every little thing out of you through Citron. I’d much rather you talk of your own free will but you _get_ why we have to be suspicious. Right? You don’t look like a bad one at all, just talk to us.” 

“You can’t fix all your problems by playing Good Cop, Director,” Minagi muttered. 

“Shut it. He’s a kid.” 

Taichi watched the Caster roll his eyes and mutter, “Sakuya was right.” 

Taichi hated this. Hated—why were they being nice to him? Why were they being so _nice?_ He wanted to claw his heart out. 

“Can you please tell us your side of the story?” Director Tachibana asked him. 

Minagi clicked his tongue. “It hardly matters. My father and I have the lawsuit in order. We can file it before Reni makes a move.” 

“The lawsuit won’t work,” Taichi said hoarsely. 

“Of course it’ll work.” 

“It won’t.” He curled his fingers in so tightly, he could feel his nails digging crescents into his palms. “Mayor Reni sent me specifically to avoid that problem. I inspect places and collect information outside of warrants separate from the Council so they don’t face repercussions." 

Minagi's jaw clenched. “That’s not fair. That’s not, he can’t do that. Every inspection has to have a twenty-four hour alert.” 

“I’m not an official. Mayor Reni… he takes my words as anonymous tips which give probable cause for immediate warrants. That gives them the political power to warrant a full search” Taichi shuddered. “He wants you gone so badly.” 

“But the Council put a _changeling_ in the Coven,” Tsuzuru spat. “That’s a privacy violation.” 

Taichi tried to get his breathing under control. “And the only person who’s going to suffer is me. All Mayor Reni has to do is fire me if you lodge the complaint. I’m undocumented, I-I’m not even considered a part of society. He promised I would get documentation if I did my work under him perfectly for eight years. He’ll release me from the contract and… T-This was my only shot at finding a home." 

He was crying now. He couldn’t help it. 

Izumi silently pushed a box of Kleenex his way. Taichi took one. 

“He can’t do that,” Tsuzuru muttered. 

“He can,” Taichi whispered and wiped his eyes. “Changelings are mythics. I’m contracted. I _have_ to tell him the truth. The whole truth about everything I’ve seen. Y-You could wipe my memories but that’s still illegal Rune usage and he’ll _know_. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

He gasped for breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he tried again. “It’s not my choice. I don’t—he said the Coven is bad but it can’t be bad. So many of you think of it as a home, how could it be? But there’s nothing I can do.” 

He could almost see the cogs turning in the Director’s head. “Okay, hold on. But you’re an anonymous tip. A _tip,_ not an indisputable account. Reni could issue a warrant but what’s stopping us from sweeping everything you saw under the rug, Taichi?” 

His name. 

His name. 

That was his name. He couldn’t remember the last time someone else used it besides himself to his mirror. Taichi’s entire chest lurched. 

"Mayor Reni is going to destroy this place,” he forced out. 

The three teachers all froze. 

“Excuse me?” Citron said, shaking his head. “I do not think I understood.” 

Taichi raised his watery eyes, face crumpling. “An immediate warrant means h-he could bulldoze this building to the ground in search of illegal tomes and he’d be allowed to. He’ll wreck the Coven to the dirt. That was the plan all along, not just to f-find a reason to shut you guys down. It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s going to _destroy the Coven_."

* * *

Izumi leaned back in her chair and laughed once. A hollow “ha!” that rang in the office. 

Airtight, wasn’t it? 

Whatever complaint Tsuzuru and his family, or herself, lodged, the only backlash Mayor Reni would face is having to fire the responsible party. That would be Taichi. Regardless of that, Taichi would tell him the truth of what he discovered here. That would be an immediate search to the highest degree. Sure, they could hide Itaru. They could tell Banri not to come back. They could burn every illegal tome. 

It didn’t matter. Reni could excuse the demolition of the building as part of the search. The Coven wouldn’t be able to reopen without a place to stay. 

She almost laughed again in her despair.

"Director," Tsuzuru hissed.

She held up a hand to silence him. Izumi didn't think she could handle dialogue right now.

Airtight. A complete checkmate with just one changeling and two arrests. A fantastic play on Reni’s part, she had to admit. He didn't just have to shut them down. He just had to find a reason to destroy them. That would be through Taichi, whether the sobbing kid liked it or not.

They were absolutely fucked. 

Someone knocked on the door. It cracked open and Yuki stuck his head in. 

“Director,” he said once in greeting. 

She waved him away. “Not… Not now, Yuki. This isn’t a good time.” 

The brownie walked in all the way, his cellphone bobbing behind him. “Actually, this would be the best time.” 

He waved a hand and the phone floated all the way until it rested on her desk on speaker. 

“ _H-Hi, Director! It’s good to know that you’re back._ ” 

This was a surprise. “Muku. How are you? I hope you’re doing alright.” 

“ _Mhm. My dad and I went fishing this morning. That was fun. It’s really quiet here, it’s just me and my parents in the cabin and the woods so it’s been… I’m getting better. The time away from everything was a good idea. I’m sorry for whispering, my mom said no magic on the trip but this is really important_.” 

“Important…?” 

“ _Yuki’s been filling me in. I’m sorry I can’t be there! I’m doing my best from the woods, I promise._ ” 

Izumi was only getting more confused with every word coming from the phone. “Your best from the woods? And… what exactly is it that you've been doing?” 

“ _Yuki, five seconds_." 

Yuki snapped his fingers and the office window slid open. 

“Incomiiiiiiing!” someone sang from outside. 

“NO! MISUMI, NO! STOP, WHAT ARE—DON’T THROW ME?!" 

Citron seized Izumi around her waist and shoved her out of the way as Banri went cannonballing through the window. He rolled a few times before crashing like a human golfball into the gaping hole in the office floor from Sakuya’s basement trip. (They really had to get that fixed.) They could hear Misumi whooping from outside. A sole glance revealed him flying on that rake of his, hanging from his knees. 

“What?” Izumi managed at last. 

Banri stuck his head up. Everyone in the room except for Yuki stared in utter shock at his ash-streaked face. He coughed violently before spitting up a glob of phlegm onto the floor. 

“Is that Sakisaka on the phone?” Banri demanded. “Hand it over.” 

“I—” 

“HAND IT OVER!” 

She tossed the phone over. Banri raised it to his mouth. 

“ _FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU_ , YOU ASSWIPE TWERP!” he bellowed. “I’M GOING TO FUCKING KICK YOUR _TEETH IN_ WHEN YOU GET BACK. FUCK YOU! _FUCK_ YOU!” 

“ _You don’t have to y-yell at me, I’m on speakerphone. Did you get it, though?_ ” 

Banri patted his pockets and removed a crumpled packet of paper. He threw it on the ground and collapsed back into the hole. 

“FUCK!” he shouted at the ceiling. “MOTHERFUCKER!” 

Yuki picked up the packet with a sniff. “Don’t be so dramatic, it couldn’t have been that bad.” 

“ARE YOU FUCKING ME? IT WAS THE WORST!” 

“It was fun!” Misumi said, flying to the window. “Hiiiii, Director, welcome back!” 

Izumi gave a stunned wave towards him. “Can… Can someone explain to me what’s going on? Tsuzuru?” 

The Caster looked equally at a loss. “I have. Not even the slightest clue.” 

She took the phone from Banri. “Kiddo. What in the world have you all been doing when I was gone?” 

“ _W-Well, I looked into it and I couldn't find a future where Tsuzuru's lawsuit worked. I figured there was something else we could do, and Yuki had the idea... shoot. Yuki, can you explain? I think mom’s about to call me to dinner soon_.” 

Yuki cleared his throat and opened the packet. The sheet of paper was only half an inch shorter than him. “This would be Reni’s contract to the changeling. Muku and I put together a plan for Misumi and Mister I-Think-Purple-Plaid-Is-Sociably-Acceptable to fetch it from the Main Hall.” 

“FUCK!” Banri shouted from the hole again. “JESUS _FUCKING CHRIST._ NEVER AGAIN. THEY HAD A _GUARD CHIMERA_. A FUCKING CHIMERA! A MOTHERFUCKING CHIMERA, I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW CHIMERAS WERE REAL.” 

Misumi laughed gleefully and clapped his hands. “It was sooooo much fun! Banri and I super bonded! Kazu helped too.” 

Izumi fetched the packet of paper and stared at it. 

She looked at the brownie. 

Back to the contract. 

To Taichi, who looked like he'd stopped being able to follow the moment Yuki had walked in. 

“ _What?_ ” Izumi asked. "What have you kids been UP TO?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is just going to be a review of what Muku, Yuki, Misumi, Banri, and Kazunari were up to under Tsuzuru's nose <3


	29. When The Director Isn't Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> general warnings: violence

**6 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

“ _Did you get to the cabin safely?_ ” 

“Y-Yeah, it was only a couple hours of driving.” Muku let his cellphone rest between his shoulder and cheek, leaving his hands free to start unpacking his suitcase. “It wasn’t too bad. I think mom and dad are trying to make me f-feel better about everything so they put on my favorite soundtrack the entire way.” 

“ _Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Are you ready to try it out? You have your own room?_ ” 

“Mhm!” 

He dropped his few shirts on the bed and went to go sit in front of the full length mirror. He winced at the sight of the ugly bruise on his face and tried not to think about it too much. Shimada had gotten much worse—the mark on Muku wasn’t even half the retribution he deserved. 

Scrying. 

Mister Citron had talked about it once. Seeing places far away in a reflective surface. He'd quickly dismissed it as “too advanced” for where Muku was in his studies but it shouldn’t hurt trying it out by himself at least once, Muku figured. Especially with the week away from the Coven and his actual lessons. 

Muku stared at the boy in the mirror with the beaten face, and tried to let his eyes unfocus. Sharp edges softened to blurs. Bright colors swam together until everything in Muku’s vision went a muted puddle. And then the colors began dancing. Swirling with purpose. He gritted his teeth and fought the urge to tear his eyes away from it all in a panic. 

Then the mirror came back into focus. Almost. It was like watching a movie from the corner of his eyes. A vibrant daydream. A mirage. 

In the mirror, he could see his dorm back at the Coven. Yuki was sitting cross-legged on his bed. 

“It worked,” he said softly. 

The Yuki in the mirror straightened. “ _Did it?_ ” 

The sound from his phone shook him out of his stupor, banishing the vision. Muku pinched his thigh. “Give it a second, I just lost it.” 

“ _How many fingers am I holding up?_ ” 

Muku took in a deep breath and tried to calm himself. As his thrumming heart returned to its normal pace, his mind drifted again. 

_Dorm. The dorm. The Coven_ , he repeated over and over. 

His reflection blurred once more until Yuki was back in sight. He wasn’t looking right at Muku, instead listlessly at a wall. 

“Turn around,” Muku said softly. 

Yuki slowly shifted on the bed. 

“A little more.” 

The brownie rotated until he was facing Muku’s direction. 

“Eyes a little higher. W-Where are you looking now?” 

He watched his friend purse his lips and speak into the phone. “ _The window_.” 

“Oh! I guess that would make sense. The window’s glass, it should be reflective. Or maybe I’m wrong, I don’t even know what I’m talking about, I can’t—” 

Yuki rolled his eyes. “ _Don’t even start_.” 

“Sorry!” 

Yuki lifted his hand. “ _How many?_ ” 

“Three.” 

“ _Oh my God, you_ can _see me. That'd be a lot cooler if we didn’t have FaceTime available in this day and age._ ” 

Muku laughed and then clamped his mouth shut when the vision strayed once more. It was like any tether to reality was enough to shake him out of scrying properly. He felt an odd buzzing in the joint of his jaw, and right behind the sockets of his eyes. A stronger sensation of magic than usual. 

“It’s a good way to keep tabs when I’m far away,” Muku managed. “I wish you could see me though.” 

“ _Why?_ ” 

Why indeed. Muku bit his lower lip. He tore his eyes away from the mirror to wipe them. “I’m s-sorry, Yuki.” 

The scrying had cut off again but he could imagine how his friend looked. Yuki’s eyes would have gone wide for a split second before he slipped into that bored expression that everyone thought was his default. 

“ _It’s not me you should be sorry to_.” 

“I know. B-But… I just feel sorry to everybody. I messed up real bad.” 

“ _Yeah, you did_.” 

Muku sniffled. He’d wanted to cry again in the car but his dad teared up whenever he did. Now he was alone and he could cry in peace. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Muku whispered. “I never… I n-never did anything like that before.” 

Yuki snorted. “ _You don’t look like the type to go nuts._ ” 

Silence. 

“ _Listen. It’s not like I’m the one you beat up. When you come back, we’ll go to Shimada’s house together and say sorry to him. Then you just have to make sure not to lose it that badly again. The only thing you have to apologize to me for is leaving me alone at lunch from now on_.” 

Muku let out a tired chuckle. “M-Mom said we might fill out an application to join Hanasaki for the rest of the year. Maybe get into their high school too. I have a r-record now apparently so I might not get in but… we’re gonna try.” 

“ _You do pretty decent on tests from what I’ve heard so the entrance exam won’t kill you_.” 

“Yeah. Maybe.” 

He touched the mirror and let a tear-wet finger smear on the glass. He saw Yuki again but this time with a small smile. 

“We can still be friends even if we don’t go to the same school, right?” Muku asked quietly. 

The brownie rolled his eyes. “ _Are you stupid? Wait, don’t answer that, I already know_.” 

Muku laughed again. “So—so what did I miss? Tsuzuru sent me home right after he put the imposter in the basement.” 

“ _Not much. I think he broke out but the Triangle Witch and Allegedly Hollow caught him_.” 

Muku shivered at Kazunari’s nickname. “Did anybody get hurt?” 

“ _No, we had a pizza party_.” 

“…Ah?” 

Mirror-Yuki’s grin grew. “ _We stole Sumeragi’s credit card to order them all_.” 

The Seer shook his head again even though he knew Yuki wouldn’t be able to see it. “I’m sorry I missed it. It sounds r-really fun.” 

“ _Eh, it was okay. The changeling eats like a pig, he had an entire pie and then kept stealing slices from the rest of us_.” 

Muku paused. “Changeling?” 

Mirror-Yuki’s expression went dark but he didn’t say anything else. Muku just shrugged it off as another word for shapeshifter. 

“What are you guys gonna do with him?” 

“ _Background Character says the changeling’s from the Council. He wants to file a lawsuit against the Mayor for breaking and entering and inspection without warrant or announcement.”_

There was a little puddle of relief in Muku that Tsuzuru was dealing with the problem instead of the Director, then. He had a feeling that the Director would have just marched into the Council’s building and done a wrestling move on the Mayor to express her disapproval. Muku didn’t know a lot about magic government (or government in general) but that probably wouldn’t have gone over well. 

“Do you think it’ll work?” 

“… _Honestly? I don’t think so. The Council’s pretty shifty. Magicians can stay blind to it all they want but mythics know. I was hoping you could look into the future and tell me how it would work out_.” 

Muku frowned. “I don’t know if I can, Yuki. That’s like… a pretty specific future you want me to look into right off the bat.” 

“ _What if I got you a copy of the suit itself? Would that help?_ ” 

“M-Maybe?” 

He watched the brownie hop off his bed. “ _Check your e-mail in like ten minutes_.” 

“Okay! D-Don’t get caught!” 

“ _Muku, I’m twelve inches tall. I think I know how to get something on a thumb drive without getting seen_.” 

**7 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

Muku frowned deeply as he scrolled through the absurdly long document on his phone. There were a lot of big words he couldn’t understand. How was Suvoir Dire pronounced? What did it mean? Subpoena? Was that even a real thing? 

He stuck the phone under his covers when he heard footsteps go by outside. It was one in the morning but his mother must have just finished up some work on the laptop. He waited another minute before resuming his reading. 

He tried to imagine what Tsuzuru would look like when he read from the document. 

No vision came to sight. He curled in on himself and sighed. Yuki needed his advice but what advice could he give if he couldn’t see the future? 

_Get inspired_ , Mister Citron had told him. _Seer Magic is all about inspiration_. 

What inspired Muku? 

**7.1 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

Daisuke Sakisaka emerged from the room. “Son? What are you up to? It’s late, you should be heading to bed.” 

“One second, dad,” Muku murmured, staring at the surface of his glass of strawberry milk. 

The little red specks in the pink… He swirled the milk some more, staring further. 

Daisuke Sakisaka cleared his throat. “Son, it’s time to sleep.” 

Almost. Almost. So close. There was something there. 

“Muku—” 

Muku gasped.

* * *

_Tsuzuru’s fists clenched hard, knuckles going white._

_“That’s not fair,” he seethed. “You sent the changeling as a part of an investigation. You have to face repercussions."_

_“That is a bold accusation to be making without evidence, Mister Minagi,” Mayor Reni said softly as he leaned forward on his elbows. “The offending party has lost his position, was released from his personal contract with myself, and has since been banned from the city. I never ordered him to do any of his actions. While we took his statement on the Coven’s wrongdoings for the warrant and foreclosure, that’s simply for our desire to ensure the students are not within a… let us say ‘problematic’ environment.”_

_They were all in a courtroom. Or, what Muku thought looked like a courtroom. There was a long semicircle table of old men wearing suits, with Mayor Reni sitting in the middle. One man clicked his tongue and swiped his thumb over the end of a cigar, lighting it._

_“This is ridiculous,” he huffed. “It was a mythic gone rogue and acting against orders. What else is new? We’ll bar any future applications from joining, that fixes the issue you’re so indignant about. There’s no reason to demolish the administration of this city over something so nonessential as a Coven.”_

_The Director took a step forward, eye twitching. “This is ridiculous. Mayor Reni has had it against us since the moment we were established.”_

_“Mayor Reni,” another man interrupted roughly, “has done nothing but sing praises about the service you’ve done the community. That service has no need to be carried on if the tip about your wrongdoing holds true. This lawsuit is an insult and meaningless. I move for the board to vote.”_

_“Proposal accepted, Councilman Otomiya,” Reni said._

_The man, Otomiya, tapped a finger on a pile of papers in front of him. “Everyone in favor of closing the Coven to launch a full, grounds-down investigation?”_

_“Aye,” the room chorused._

_“Everyone in favor of dismissing the complaint against Mayor Reni?”_

_“Aye.”_

_The Director’s face fell as Reni sneered and picked up the gavel._

_BANG._

_“The Council has reached a verdict._ ”

* * *

Muku emerged from the vision the way one emerged from a nightmare. Gasping and desperately trying to remind himself that it was just a dream. 

“Muku?!” his father asked, shaking him gently. “A-Are you alright? Should I go get your mother?” 

“No!” Muku blurted out. He seized his father in a big hug. “Sorry, dad. I-I did it! I did it. Goodnight, I-I’m going to go to bed now!” 

He left his father at a loss in the kitchen, standing there by himself with only the abandoned strawberry milk to keep him company. But there wasn’t any time to feel sorry about it now. Muku shut the door behind him and jumped into the bed, searching for his phone in the mess of blankets. There it was. 

[Won't work] he texted Yuki. [They dismiss the lawsuit. I saw something about closing the Coven for an investigation on a tip.] 

A little bubble popped up to show Yuki was typing. 

[knew you could do it. dummy.] 

Muku grinned wide and clutched the phone to his chest, relishing in the small victory. 

He’d done it. 

_Ping_. 

He checked the phone again. 

[you going to sleep?] 

[No, I don’t think I can, I’m too excited] 

[tell me everything] 

So Muku typed out everything he’d seen in one long paragraph. 

[contract?] 

{Yeah, Mayor Reni mentioned a personal contract] 

Yuki began typing, stopped, started again, stopped, and then didn’t type for a solid minute. Just as Muku began to ask whether his friend was okay, Yuki stared once more. 

[i think we have to come up with a plan on our own] 

[Plan?] 

[contracts are serious business. if we want to avoid the coven shutting down, we need that contract the mayor has with the changeling] 

[Shouldn’t we get Tsuzuru on board?] 

[when you want things to be done, you do them on your own. ill go find the blueprint of the main hall in the director’s office and send you a picture. stay online] 

Muku wet his lips. [Okay!!!] 

**31 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

Yuki yawned. 

“ _You alright?_ ” 

“I’m fine,” he muttered into his phone, staring at the markings he’d made to the blueprint. “I took a nap when I got back from school for a couple of hours. We’re on a time crunch so… W hatever. I’ll just crash like that Background Character when all this is done and over with.”

“ _Same. I ate lunch but I got so tired I almost fell asleep with my face in the salad bowl. Mom was mad about it so if she takes my phone away tonight, you know why_.”

“Mm.”

He circled another air vent. Option E if any of the other routes didn’t work. He’d have to get going in an hour if he wanted to catch a time where the Mayor wasn’t in the office. But how would he get through the Runes? The security cameras?

“ _Yuki, I don’t think… I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go in._ ”

He huffed. “You bring this up now? I’m leaving soon!”

“ _I’m s-sorry! But, but we don’t even have a plan for the Runes. We need help_.”

"Who else? You’re not here to go with me, I don’t trust half the people here to know the plan without blabbing… The more people we get involved, the more time we waste.”

He could almost see Muku’s tears welling. “ _B-But you said you can’t use magic if you’re not in a home!_ ”

A risk they’d have to take. They just had to think. There was only so much time before the Director was back and Reni would make a move.

“I’m going to go get a fruit snack,” Yuki said, standing up.

“ _Yuki, it’s not safe…_ ”

“Well, who’s going to help us _break into a Main Hall_ and not ask any questions?” Yuki asked impatiently, lowering his voice as he stepped into the dark hallway.

“Banri, it’s too soon! I’m not ready to be an uncle! MAKE THEM STOOOOOP! ”

Yuki paused.

“ _Was that Misumi?_ ” Muku asked him. “ _Is Banri there too?_ ”

“No,” he said immediately.

The Seer actually whined. “ _Yuki, you know what I’m going to say. I might not like Banri that much either but… he is blessed._ ”

“Absolutely not. ”

“ _And Misumi’s a Witch! I’ve seen him scale the building before to get inside when he couldn’t find his keys, that must be good for a break in!_ ”

“NO! I REFUSE! ”

Muku seemed hesitant. “ _If it helps, you can tell them… you can tell them I looked into the future and that it’ll be totally safe._ ”

“You didn’t actually look into the future, right?”

Yuki could hear Muku’s small existential crisis. “ _It’s a tiny white lie! To convince them! S-Sometimes… Sometimes, um, it’s not just black and white, right? We can l-lie about a few tiny things if it means it’s for the greater good_.”

The brownie stomped his foot. “We are NOT going to have them join in!"

**31.5 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

“And that’s why we have to get the contract,” Yuki said sharply.

Banri crossed his legs, eyes scanning the blueprint. “How do we even know if the Mayor guy even has it in there? After the last break in, if it were me I’d have put all the sensitive, important stu ff somewhere else. That’s probably why we couldn’t find shit on Watanabe, the Mayor knew what we were going to do. ”

Yuki tore into the fruit snack in hand, angrily consuming the sugary gummy like it was the only good thing the world had left to offer. “He doesn’t know about the plan this time though unless you’re planning on ratting us out."

Banri gave him a reproachful look that said enough.

Yuki rolled his eyes. “Listen. The Mayor knew about the break in last time, right? But he still only put Fushimi on guard. My guess is that he wanted to catch us in the act. You like to go on and on about how smart you are so why don’t you connect the rest of the dots, Mister I-Might-Be-Colorblind-Based-Off-My-Fashion-Choices. ”

“My fashion choices are _great_.”

The brownie tore his eyes away in disgust. “I’m not even going to validate that claim with a response. ”

Banri scowled but turned the prompt over in his mind.

Mayor Reni knew about the break in but he hadn’t situated any extra guards. Just Fushimi. 

What had the cop said back then?

" _We got a tip a few days ago that a break-in might be happening today. Usually, Mayor Reni would have heightened security measures in response but he gave unorthodox instructions this time._ ”

“ _I’ve been told to not let anybody take anything off the perimeter but to let everyone go after being caught except Tenma Sumeragi._ ”

Anonymous tip. The way things were shaping up, the changeling had probably been responsible. Or maybe it’d been a different spy. Maybe neither, but the Mayor knew about their plan and didn’t want to say exactly where he got the information.

Keep Sumeragi? Why Sumeragi specifically?

Oh.

“His family’s hot shit, right?” Banri said, realizing. “But the Council hates them. That’s why Sumeragi wasn’t invited in the first place, that’s why he went on the heist with us."

“Reni has a vendetta against the Coven, and the Sumeragi Bloodline has always been a thorn in the Council's side.” Rurikawa finished off the fruit snack and switched his glamour on, only to pick up the pen and begin circling rooms in red ink. The Archives and the Mayor’s office. “I’d guess that he thought he was killing two birds with one stone. The changeling problem we’re dealing with now was probably his Plan B.”

The picture was coming into focus. Sumeragi being found on the property of the Main Hall breaking in was damning enough to shame the Sumeragi Bloodline and get the Coven in trouble as well. But Banri and the guys had taken Fushimi and there was no confession or evidence so the Council had moved on to sending the changeling in instead.

Sakuma’s words from the pizza party last night came to mind. “ _You’re from the ball, aren’t you? The one who handed me the trophy_.” 

“You were at the ball,” Banri said suddenly. “Tell me exactly what happened with whatever trophy.”

“The huh?”

“Sakuma mentioned a trophy last night. That he’d _seen_ the changeling before. What trophy?”

The tips of Yuki’s ears twitched. “The Citizen’s Extol. It’s like a community service gold star of ‘good work, keep it up.’”

“Who was it _for?_ ”

Yuki’s eyebrows shot up. Good, he’d gotten it too.

“The Director,” Yuki muttered. “The trophy was for the Director but Sakuya went up to get it. Because she left early for you guys.”

The only thing that stopped the changeling’s infiltration from happening any sooner had been sheer luck. 

…Wait, luck?

“Oh my fucking God,” Banri muttered, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Holy _shit_.”

That was why he’d face planted into the wall.

That was why he’d suffered such a severe concussion.

Getting his nose broken was what had brought the Director rushing to the Coven, skipping the party early.

His own luck had gotten him fucked over to avoid an even bigger problem.

Banri could feel the hysterical laughter in his stomach bubble. Jesus fucking CHRIST. How twisted. The Mayor? The complicated inner workings of magic society? The blessing on his head? All of the above. His hand slid off of his face when Banri deemed himself stable enough to have a conversation without breaking down.

“Okay,” Banri said, shaking his head. “Fine. A few things have been cleared up. But what’s to say the contract is going to be there in the Council building? Why wouldn’t Reni have it locked up in his home?”

“First: the only reason why the Director planned the break-in for the day of the ball was because that was the only day security would be low. Usually, the place is crawling with magicians around the clock—the ball is their day off to attend and enjoy. The Council building is safer than any other place you’d find in this city, especially for magic-related things." Yuki tapped the Archives room then Reni’s office. “Second of all, the Director wanted something _low risk_. Just information. The contract would be different. You won’t find it in either rooms you poked into last time.”

Banri raised an eyebrow. The question was obvious.

Where would the contract be kept, then?

“The Council Vaults,” Yuki said darkly, “are located underground. The confiscated illegal tomes, things regarding black magic, and _definitely_ any private contracts Reni might have. You’ll find them there instead.”

Banri whistled. “ _Vaults_ , huh. This is starting to sound more and more like a bank robbery.”

“Banks will be nothing in comparison.” Yuki glanced at Misumi. “That’s why you’ll—are you even listening?"

Misumi still looked too gloomy from Monica and Kamekichi’s utter disregard for proper courting to focus. Yuki snapped his fingers, trying to get his attention.

“Focus, Triangle Witch,” the brownie spat.

“I’m not ready to be an uncle,” Misumi whispered sadly.

Yuki clicked his tongue. Good help was impossible to find nowadays.

“Where are the entrances to the Vault?” Banri asked.

Yuki shrugged.

Banri’s frown grew more pronounced. “The fuck?”

“We don’t know. That’s why I’m sending you off tonight. There won’t be that many people around, if you help me sneak in, I should be able to go around the ventilation systems and find—”

Banri raised a hand to cut him off. “I have a better idea. Christ, this plan is such a mess. You were really willing to go through with this?”

Yuki’s jaw dropped and the tips of his ears reddened. “Shut up! I’m fourteen and I stitch wounds, I don’t do _delinquent_ things like you do every other day.”

That much was obvious. Banri leaned back on his hands and tried to think.

What resources did they have?

What tricks and secrets?

How much power?

They needed someone to be able to break in and find the Vaults entrance. Someone incognito. Someone that would be able to go around the Council’s Main Hall without being detected, at their leisure, despite the amount of magicians that would be in every nook and cranny.

Everything clicked into place. He leaned forward and took the pen from Rurikawa.

“I’m only going to go through the plan once,” he said firmly, jabbing Misumi in the ribs. “So both of you listen up. I’m not going to repeat it.”

The two of them drew closer as Banri began sketching out notes on the blueprint.

**33.2 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

“And… and you need me why?” Juza asked, furrowing his brow.

“Because magicians don’t see you during any time of the day except from three in the morning to sunrise,” Banri hissed. “Keep it down, Rurikawa’s sleeping. The kid hasn’t let himself hit the sack for the past two days.”

Misumi leaned forward, trying to touch Juza’s face. His fingers passed through. The ghost lurched away.

“Don’t do that,” Juza muttered.

Misumi grinned. “I like your face! Your eyebrows make this really cute triangle.”

Banri was going to strangle the both of them. Once he figured out how to bring Hyodo back to life, at least.

He tapped the blueprint to get their attention. “We’ll get Miyoshi to put the blackout spell back in place for five minutes. Obviously, it’ll be the middle of the day so there’s going to be a lot of people. We’ll use that to our _advantage_. More people in the darkness means more panic. Ten minutes is all we’ll need to slip into the Vaults as long as you can pinpoint where it is beforehand."

Juza sighed and crossed his legs, sitting in the air once more. “I was gonna go watch the dogs in the park.”

“Jesus Christ, Hyodo, you’re fucking dead, you can go watch the dogs tomorrow!”

“…Sounds boring. I don’t wanna float around and haunt a government building.”

“HYODO. YOU ARE _DEAD_. WHAT ELSE DO YOU HAVE TO DO?”

Yuki shot up, eyes bloodshot. He waved a hand and the little table flipped over, smacking Banri on his forehead. “SHUT UP, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP!”

**34 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

“What are you doing?” Banri asked as Misumi scribbled a message on a sticky note.

The Witch put it on Tsuzuru’s lab door. “Telling Tsuzu that I’m going over to Kazu’s. Otherwise he’ll worry.”

Banri rolled his eyes. Actually, that gave him an idea. What’d one of Minagi’s notebooks said? There’d been an interesting note in there. He cracked the door open ever so slightly to find the boy sleeping on his laptop’s keyboard. Perfect. He tiptoed over and nabbed something from a table.

Misumi was turning a few cartwheels in the courtyard when Banri came back. 

“Let’s bounce,” Banri said.

Misumi picked up a rake and his fingers glowed with magic. He threw a big smile over his shoulder. 

“Ready?” Misumi asked. “If it’s just us, we can fly! It’s faster than the train and waaaay more fun!”

Right out of a fuckin’ Ghibli film, Banri thought. Ridiculous. “Fuck it, why not. Fly me to the moon, Kiki.” Banri had an idea. “…Stop by my house first. I need to pick something up from my desk drawer.”

**35 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

At 5 in the morning, Kazunari heard taps from his window. He forced himself to sit up and groaned, rubbing his eyes. When he shoved the drapes aside, he'd expected a bunch of annoying birds at the windowsill so it was a surprise when he instead found Banri and Misumi. Especially since his dad’s apartment was on the seventeenth floor of the complex.

“Is… that a rake?” Kazunari asked, squinting. “You can fly on rakes now, Sumi?”

Misumi leaned forward and held out a paper bag. “Goooooood morning, Kazu! We swung by a store and brought you a bagel for breakfast!”

Kazunari accepted the bag and opened his window further. “Come in, come in. Be quiet though, my dad’s sleeping.”

Banri slid from the rake into Kazunari’s little bedroom, stumbling a bit. He looked around, somewhat impressed. “Dude, nice. Where’d you buy them?”

Kazunari’s bedroom was covered from floor to ceiling with wall scrolls of traditional Japanese art. Frankly, they were beautiful and looked like they would have gone for a lot at the vintage art galleries his sister frequented whenever she spent too much time on Pinterest.

“Ah, I drew them.”

“You _drew_ all of these?”

Kazunari fanned himself and sat on the bed, tearing open the baggy. A poppyseed bagel with cream cheese greeted him warmly the way a lover would. Or at least, how Kazunari would assume a lover would greet him in the mornings.

“Yeah, bro, I’m majoring in trad art. You didn’t know?” He tore off a chunk and shoved it into his mouth. “Uhhh… can I ask what you guys are doing here so early? Totes love the unexpected visit, but I feel like this isn’t just a ‘hey, Kazu, you sexy, good looking stud, wanted to drop in to see how you were doing’ kinda thing.”

“We’re breaking into the Main Hall!” Misumi said brightly as he tried to fit the rake through the window.

“Again?” Kazunari scratched his head. “Is this just gonna be a monthly thing now? If you guys are bored and looking for a hobby, why don’t you do what my dad did after the divorce and start making miniature boats in ships? Apparently that’s a really good way to eat up time.”

Banri crouched to inspect a specific piece on Kazunari’s wall. Most of his works seemed to be on traditional rice paper but this one was framed and, from a first glance, done on black lacquered wood. It depicted a woman in shimmering clothes sitting by a river. The bamboo had been carved out with a careful hand, and so had most of the woman, but her robes were pearlescent and the river was gold.

“Dude… you seriously made this? It’s dope as shit.” Banri leaned closer until his breath fogged the glass. “How’d you do it?”

Kazunari preened in the praise like a peacock. “Cool, right? That one took me forevsies! And I ended up using soooo much of the art department’s budget for the materials, haha, my professor was so mad!”

Misumi flopped onto the bed and rested a head on Kazunari’s thigh. “Kazu’s sooooo talented. He draws really good triangles too, he lets me keep ‘em."

“Answer my question, how’d you do it?” Banri said, growing impatient.

Kazunari swallowed, this time more than just the bagel. “You, uh, you actually wanna know?”

“Oh my fucking _shit_ , is every magician stupid?” Banri snapped. “I’ve asked you like twice, just answer me.”

Kazunari flushed. “It’s—It’s called raden. It’s, uh, it’s when you use shards of mother of pearl shells, the shiny bits? And inlay them into wood. That’s the shiny part. The gold is done with the zougan method. I did that last year to wrap up my portfolio.”

Banri bobbed his head. “Word, man. I’ll google all that when the job’s done. Looks cool, Miyoshi, I figured you were majoring in public relations or some shit.”

“Haha, yeah…” Kazunari chuckled dryly. “You’d figure. What’s this about breaking into the council? Is there a reason or are we just having Boys’ Night again?"

**38 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

“Huh. Haven’t seen you before.”

If Juza wasn’t already dead, his heart might have stopped. He’d only just taken a step into the Main Hall for crying out loud, who’d seen him already? And during the day, no less?

A boy around his age stood in the air, hands in his jersey’s pockets. He looked sleepy and—silver. Silver? Oh.

“Ghost?” Juza grunted.

“Duh.”

“Okay.”

The two of them went quiet. Obviously, neither were giant conversationalists.

The other boy shrugged. “Sun’s up. Usually ghosts come here at three-ish to get noticed. You’re late."

“Tryin’ not to get noticed, actually,” Juza said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Juza felt like this guy was a little too similar to him. What’d Settsu call it? Monosyllabic. “Lookin’ around.”

“Cool. Just because?”

“Know some guys who are breakin’ in.”

“Oh. Cool. Living guys?”

“Yeah.”

The ghost boy sighed and shifted until he was laying on his side in the air. “Living people are so annoying. I’d rather sleep.”

“Ghosts don’t sleep. Right?”

“Meh. Sometimes I pretend to.”

They looked at each other some more.

“Why are you a ghost?” Juza asked.

“Don’t remember. Too tired to move on for now.” The ghost boy reached a hand out. “Name’s Kengo. Don’t remember the last.”

“Juza.”

Both of their hands passed through each other but they pretended like they were shaking anyways. Juza figured this was just ghost etiquette, even though this Kengo guy was the first ghost he’d met yet. He hadn’t known that ghosts could see one another during the day time, but it made sense, didn’t it?

“Do you know where the Vaults are?” Juza asked.

“Nah.” Kengo floated down the hall. “Want me to help you look?”

“Yeah.”

“…Too tired. Not gonna.”

Juza scowled.

Kengo suddenly floated through the ceiling and then came down immediately after with another ghost. This one was much shorter than the both of them, and dressed in a blue and pink sweater. Something about him reminded Juza of Muku.

“Hi!” the boy said warmly and held out a hand. Juza “shook” it. “Excuse Kengo, he’s not really a good ambassador. He can be a bit of a lazy bum sometimes.”

Kengo spun lazily in the air. “Whatever. I got you, didn’t I?”

The boy sighed and rubbed his temples. “Anyways… Nice to meet you. I’m Iku Sasakawa, died in 1977. Currently the oldest ghost that hangs around the Council’s Main Hall. Kengo mentioned something about you looking for the Vaults?”

Juza suddenly grimaced, wondering if the slip of the tongue had been a bad idea. Especially after Settsu had just about torn his ear off by rattling on and on about how important it was that nobody found out about this plan in particular.

Iku held up his hands and shook his head earnestly. “Don’t worry! I won’t tell anybody. Usually I like to put in a tip here and there for the Council to work on my rungs but we have a code of honor. Ghost camaraderie! We keep our mouths shut about whatever business our fellow deadmen do.”

“Oh. Good. Rungs?”

Kengo snorted. “Iku’s dumb. He thinks he has to do ten thousand good deeds before he moves on.”

“…Is that real?” Juza asked, furrowing his brow. If it was, he’d be staying on this planet for a long while.

Iku sniffed and raised his chin. “It’s real to me. Mother dearest raised me to be a gentleman and to work hard. No reason to ignore all that just because I’m dead now. Come, why don’t I help you find the Vaults? What’s your name?”

“Juza.”

Iku’s eyes glimmered. “Nice to meet you, Juza! When’d you die?”

“Like. Last year. Something’ around then.”

Iku’s eyes went soft. “Oh no… you’re so young. And in this decade? Why, it was pneumonia that took me out but that was a long while ago, I can hardly imagine what disease could have taken your own life.”

“Uh. Car crash.”

If Iku wasn’t a ghost, he probably would have burst out crying. Juza felt massively uncomfortable. “Car crash?! How awful. Well, no matter. Nothing will hurt you now, I swear it. I’ll give you a quick tour of the Main Hall! While I’m afraid none of us know for sure where the Vaults are, we’ll do our best for you!”

Juza glanced at Kengo who’d shut his eyes to drift in peace. “We?”

He watched as Iku raised two fingers into his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. Like a scene out a movie, ten other ghosts emerged from the walls, stuck their heads down from the ceiling, burst forth from the floor. All while the magicians working in the Council bustled through, not paying them any mind or notice. Juza jut kept staring.

Iku saluted him and all the new ten followed suit, except for Kengo who seemed very committed to his sleep-acting and let out a gentle snore.

“All twelve ghosts of the Council’s Main Hall, the Specter Ensemble, reporting for duty!” Iku said brightly. “Like I said, anything for a fellow dead brethren!"

Juza stared at them all. He stuck his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat, before jerking his chin in greeting once. “S’up. Thanks.”

**41 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

Muku sat on the little boat, back pressed against his father’s as the two of them stared at opposite sides of the lake. He peered, past the sunhat his mother had insisted he wear, at the blue sky. 

Fishing was fun. Piercing the worm for bait had made him want to cry, but otherwise, very relaxing. Just spending time with his dad with both of their lines casted far away. Peaceful.

“Son,” his father said, breaking the quiet lull.

“Mm, dad?”

His father didn’t turn around, but he reached a hand back to give Muku a pat on his shoulder. “Your mother gave me quiet a talking to. About how this isn’t supposed to be a vacation, that you did bad, that we can’t make excuses for you.”

His heart tightened but he accepted the words. He deserved it. And not even in a way that Yuki would have yelled at him for. Muku was… it was an odd thing to admit but after having done something _bad_ , it was easier to tell the difference between getting punished justly as compared to getting punished just because. Muku would have laughed if it didn’t hurt.

Expelled from St. Flora’s. Who would have thought? He’d had the odd nightmare of it happening but never could have expected it to turn out this way.

His father cleared his throat and the boat rocked ever so gently as he raised an arm to wipe his face. Muku’s throat swelled when he realized his father was crying again.

“But you should know,” Dad said, voice thick with emotion. “We love you, son. The both of us love you so much. And we’re always going to be on your side, cheering you on and wishing you the best, no matter what.”

“Dad…”

“I know life hasn’t been easy for you. Sometimes it’ll feel like the entire universe is working to make things difficult.” Daisuke Sakisaka let out a shaky breath and then chuckled. “You’ve already left the nest so early. The house feels strange without you there.”

Muku didn’t know what to say. So he listened.

“Just remember. We love you. We’ll always be there for you. When you need your parents, you can rely on us. Okay, Muku?”

Muku leaned his head on his father’s back and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to be a Seer to know that his father was telling him the truth. For some reason, he wanted to cry even more. 

“Yeah, dad. I love you too.”

They continued fishing.

**41.12 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

The hairs on Muku’s arms stood on end. Less of a vision, per se, more of… a feeling. A gut wrench that gave a feeling of magic.

Ju-chan. Was he back in the dorms?

Muku shot to his feet.

“SON, NO, THE BOAT—!"

_SPLASH._

**41.5 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

“ _Hey, Yuki. Are you sure it’s okay for you to skip school?_ ”

Yuki rolled his eyes as he inserted the key into the lock and slipped into the dorms. He shrank down and clapped his hands to have the phone float by his side. “It’s fine, not like we have much of a choice.”

Tsuzuru was in the kitchen, eating lunch with Omi. The two of them stared at the brownie.

Omi frowned. “Saint Flora’s isn’t out yet. Why are you home, Yuki?”

Yuki cleared his throat. “Half day. They let us out by lunch.”

They looked at him some more before shrugging and returning to the conversation.

“Anyways,” Tsuzuru said, resuming his story. “I’ll admit, my relationship with our lord and savior Jesus Christ is a complicated one but a strong. I really do have faith, you know, even if it was hardbound.“

Yuki slipped into Muku’s dorm and closed the door behind him, entirely uninterested in sticking around to hear Background Character’s monologue about growing up catholic. He told the story to just about anybody who listened, after all. 

“You said your cousin’s back?” he whispered into the phone.

“ _I have a hunch is all. I think I’m getting better and better at the Seer thing, but I wanted you there just to confirm on the phone since Ju-chan won’t be able to hear me. Okay, I’m gonna go to the mirror now_.”

Muku sneezed. Yuki frowned.

“Did you get sick?”

“ _N-No! I just fell into the lake is all_.”

“You fell into the lake?”

“ _I don’t want to talk about it! It’s embarrassing_.”

Yuki faced the window like he had the night before the last and waited. After some shuffling and waiting from Muku’s end, his voice came through.

“ _He’s there._ ”

Yuki fought down the urge to shudder. It was just Muku’s cousin, after all. Still, it was weird knowing there was a spirit in the room he couldn’t see.

“ _Can you put me on speakerphone?_ ”

Yuki did so, and let the phone drop to a rest on the mattress.

Muku cleared his throat. “ _Ju-chan, can you hear me? Say something. …Ah. I can’t hear you. Nod if you can hear me though_.”

This was a very strange conversation to sit in on.

“ _Okay, Ju-chan, since I can’t hear you and I can only see you, you’re going to have to do your best to play charades and let me know. Did you find the Vaults? Oh, that’s great! Just try your best to tell me where it is. Okay, six words… First word. Huh? Um… hammer?_ ”

Yuki shook his head. A really weird conversation to sit in on.

**43 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

“What took you so long?” Banri snapped. “God, Rurikawa, in the time it took you, Hyodo, and the Hyodo cousin to figure out where the Vaults were, the three of us here set the perimeter _and_ got like four rounds of frozen yogurt and bubble tea.”

“ _I hope you turn lactose intolerant. It took a while, okay? Muku could see the ghost but his voice didn’t carry through the phone so they had to play charades. It was absolutely stupid. The entrance to the Vaults is located on the second floor. There’s a locked supply closet and a trick door shelf. Entrance is behind there but you’re going to have to figure out how to open it on your own_.”

Banri clicked his tongue in annoyance. “That’s all you can tell us?”

“ _Muku’s cousin couldn’t get in. There are wards against ghosts, he burnt his hand trying to float through_.”

“Deserved. Fucking asshole.”

He could almost see Rurikawa’s annoyed curl of the upper lip. “ _I’m not interested in hearing about your feud. Just go in there and get back with the contract as soon as possible, the Director’s due in like five hours_.”

“Right. Have the Hyodo cousin on standby to watch out for when we dip out. Final question, this is Closet A9 on the blueprint, right?”

“ _Yeah_.”

“Dope, that’s all I need to know."

They disconnected the call. He turned to Misumi and Kazunari who were lying on the steps and staring at the sky.

“And that cloud looks like a monkey!” Misumi said brightly, pointing.

“Whoaaaa, you’re right. I can totally see it!”

Banri kicked Miyoshi in the ribs. Not hard enough to hurt but enough for the Caster to shoot up with a complaining yelp.

“Got the green light from the brownie,” he said. “Second floor supply closet. Fake shelf.”

Kazunari saluted but then hesitated. “You know, this is going to be different. I can turn the blackout Rune sequence on but… you guys are gonna have to work as fast as possible. The Main Hall’s absolutely swarming with other Casters, with that many working against it they’ll be able to have the lights on in no time. Not to mention, they’ll have flashlights too…"

Banri felt his wrists and then his pockets for an elastic. He found one in his jacket pocket and tied his hair up. “Do you think I’m a fuckin’ clown? I already thought of all that. Misumi, how fast does that rake go.”

The Witch somersaulted to his feet and grinned. “Super fast! I love flying.”

“Good. We’re going to have to go as fast as possible for this to work.” He glanced at the building. Closet A9. That meant they’d have to go through two hallways. “Miyoshi, grab the rake and put it right here. Then leave for your apartment. If anyone asks, you didn’t leave your house once.”

Kazunari sighed. “The things I do for the Coven. I’m not even a part of it.”

“Booooo. You basically are,” Misumi said with a pout.

“Ahaha! You think?”

“Yeah!”

Misumi swung a leg over the rake. Banri sat behind him, wrapping his arms around Misumi’s midsection.

“Okay,” Banri muttered. “You got control over this thing?”

Misumi shot him a big smile. “You know it!”

“We have to time this exactly. Miyoshi, set a timer on your phone for twenty seconds and then activate the sequence the instant that alarm goes off.” Banri worked his lips, running the numbers through his head one more time. “Misumi. You have to listen to exactly what I say when I say it. Swear on your fuckin’ life.”

“I swear, Banban.”

Miyoshi saluted again. “You got it, king.”

Misumi kicked off of the ground and the rake rose higher and higher until they were just about at level with the Council’s second floor. The building was far, far away, enough to let them be shrouded by the canopy of leaves without having to fear being spotted.

“Go,” Banri ordered. “Fast.”

“Fast!”

Maybe Banri underestimated the Witch, actually. His eyes streamed with tears as the rake shot off at what felt like Mach 10 speeds. Misumi leaned forward, laughing hysterically as they jetted forth. Banri just tried not to have his cheeks ripple.

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

He forced himself to count the seconds. The building got closer.

_Now_.

All the lights in the building shut off. Banri seized Misumi around his waist.

“LET GO!” he bellowed.

Anyone else would have turned and looked at him like he was crazy. Misumi just tore his hands off of the rake like they’d been set on fire and the two were flung off, hurling straight towards the glass window.

Banri shoved the heel of his palm into Misumi’s midsection and whispered, “ _Nullum affectum_.”

The magic set in. They squeezed their eyes shut right before impact and—

Passed through the brick wall like it wasn’t even there into the pitch black of the Main Hall. There was shouting on the inside. Voices Banri didn’t care to remember, all yelling in shock and wondering why it was dark. The momentum from the rake forced the two of them (or at least, Banri hoped it did, since he couldn’t feel the Witch anymore) past the voices, past another set of voices, and then… quiet.

Pins and needles prickled soon enough, as Banri had toned the magic level of the spell down. He reached for his phone once feeling was completely back and switched the light on. A smile spread on his face almost against his will as the sight of several shelves crammed with toilet paper, staple boxes, and crates of random office shit greeted his eyes.

“Am I good or am I good?” he asked, sneering in Misumi’s direction.

The Witch grinned and ruffled his hair. “You’re so cool, Banri!”

He slapped the hand away. “Fuck off. And keep your voice down, we don’t know who could be listening in.”

He crept forward and rested a hand on each shelf against a wall, wondering which could be the one Hyodo had said was the entrance. All of them felt the same and all of them refused to budge when he pushed against it. 

“You feelin’ anything?” he asked over his shoulder.

Misumi pointed to one of the shelves. “That one.”

“How can you tell?”

He grimaced. “Bad vibes.”

Well, sure, that could be an answer.

Banri kneeled and took out a penknife, scraping the blade against the edges until he felt something catch. He pried the knife against it harder and then frowned when he felt something… odd. Upon taking out the knife, he realized that the feeling had been The Blade Melting. He stared at the ruined penknife and shook his head.

“Yep. That’s the one.” He knocked his fist against the shelf. “You got any clue how to open it up, Witch?”

Misumi made a face and flicked a blue spark. They watched as it bounded off the way light would a mirror.

“Blegh. Repels magic,” Misumi whined.

“Good thing I robbed the ugly nerd’s lab then.”

“Tsuzuru isn’t ugly or a nerd! Don’t be mean to him, Banri, he goes through enough.”

Banri gave him a very pointed look over his shoulder. “If he’s not ugly or a nerd, how’d you tell I meant Minagi when I said ‘ugly nerd’?”

Misumi clamped his mouth shut.

That’s what Banri thought.

He removed the black magithetical knife and pried it in the same place. Satisfaction curled in his gut when he could _hear_ whatever Runes or wards or (insert another bullshit magical word he didn’t care that much about) set within shattered instantly. A pry this way, a jerk that. It was like lock-picking, almost, just lacking in all the skill and grace.

He cut through the final protection seal in place and stood back. Gave the shelf a firm shove. It jerked away bit by bit, as though the hidden slider it rested on was awfully rusted, only to reveal the dumbwaiter behind it.

“You ready to go down to the Vaults?” Banri asked, hopping in. There would be just enough space for the two of them if they squeezed in.

Misumi clambered inside and curled up tight. He looked very excited, as though they were kids and Banri had just invited him into a cardboard box so they could go on a rocket trip to Jupiter.

“Down we go!” Misumi sang as Banri tugged on the rope pulley, sending them deeper down with harrowing squeaks.

**43.1 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

_Blip._

Itaru flicked from Steam to Discord. He chuckled at the “deepfried meme” he’d been sent. Humans had taken to such an odd form of humor. He gave it a quick Joy react and then sent one of his own saved memes in return. 

Technology had come a long way since the last time he’d been summoned. Although, admittedly, this was one of the few times he’d been brought to the mortal realm and allowed to have fun at his leisure. Later, he and his D&D server would go on Minecraft and talk about how their day had been. He looked forward to it.

Ah. The halfblood would be back tonight as well. Perhaps he could wrangle some more cash from her pockets. Although, Itaru thought with a frown, getting money from her was always such a bother. Being financially reliant on someone else to feed his video game funds was becoming drab and, ultimately, ineffective. What with the pace that new games were coming out…

Itaru leaned back in his gaming chair and thought.

Money. How could he get more money?

**43.15 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

“Wow,” Misumi whispered under his breath as the elevator finally hit the floor and there was no further Banri could drop them. “This is so cool. It’s like we’re on a secret mission or something, don’t you think, Banri?” 

“We are. This is literally a secret mission, bro.” 

He flicked the flashlight on his phone on and cast the glow around them to little avail. Misumi flicked his fingers the way one would to cascade water droplets after washing their hands and several large sparks flew around, bursting into flame like floating lanterns to illuminate the Vaults. 

Banri whistled. 

The Council’s Vaults were built like catacombs. 

It was a twisting stone labyrinth with bones inlayed as decoration. Banri leaned over and swiped his thumb over a human skull, wondering if it was real. There were so many different passageways that went this way and that. It’d take forever to find where they had to go. He checked his phone. Just under five hours. They’d have to go for it. 

“Where do you want to go first?” Banri asked, lacing his fingers behind his head. 

Misumi pointed down one path. “That one! Good vibes coming from it.” 

“Word, I’ll take your word for it, man.” 

**44 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

Banri was wrong. He definitely shouldn't have taken Misumi's word for it. So far, everything had been a dead end. After each failure of a venture, the two of them would mark each tunnel's entrance with a bit of ash and try the next one. 

The first passageway that wasn’t a complete and utter bust, to Banri’s glee, led to a little chamber crammed with weapons. 

Misumi overloaded the little padlock on the door with magic, sending it clattering to their feet.  Banri stepped inside and surveyed the room. T he confiscation armory of the Council's Vaults, he’d hazard.

Weapons of all types and sizes lined the walls, held in place with leather bonds and hooks. Metal glowed faintly in the dim lightning. There was a familiar pulse of magic in the air. A dunce would have been able to tell these babies were enchanted.

“No contracts!” Misumi said brightly. “Shame. Let’s go to the next one."

“Hold your horses, Pablo Picasso’s Jaime Sabartés, I wanna check this place out a little more.” 

“Huh? James what?” 

Banri gave him a withering look. “It’s a piece from Picasso’s blue period. The portrait of the poet Sabartés has blue hair like you. I was making a fuckin’ _incredible_ and smartass art history joke.” 

Misumi frowned. “Blue period? Was that just a time when he was really sad? I wish we could tell him he could join the Coven, then maybe Picasso would have been a little less sad and blue.” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Banri crouched down and licked the pad of his thumb, swiping it across the flat of a sword’s blade. The metal shone once the top layer of dust was removed. Swords really weren’t his thing, a little too Renaissance Fair for his tastes. The two Hunters back at the Coven used them though, didn’t they? This was so sick. 

Misumi huffed and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, tugging him out of the room. “We’re not here for those! They’re not even that cool.” 

“Hey, is that one in the shape of a triangle?” 

“Really?!” 

Banri sneered and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I lied.” 

“Baaaaanriiiiiiii!” 

**46 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

Banri was getting pissed off. 

Another two hours had gone past in this bullshit search and nothing. NOTHING. They’d only come across 2 other rooms so far in the stone maze. One that might have, at some point in the past, been an actual room but was now a breeding ground for every type of fungus known to man. Another filled with nothing but gold. The gold part might’ve been really interesting but it turned out to be _cursed_ gold because the entire length of Banri’s arm had gone red with a muted rash upon touching it. 

So yes. 

Two hours in a hot, underground tunnel system with no benefits except a dumb rash. 

Misumi seemed oddly at peace though. 

“Aren’t you hot in that thing?” Banri asked, feeling hot just from _watching_ the Witch turn cartwheels in his big black hoodie. 

Misumi giggled. “I like my hoodie! And I’m pretty good with the heat.” 

Ugh. Couldn’t relate. Banri preferred fall weather, or even winter in comparison. Summer was coming up too, what a pain in the ass. 

Misumi suddenly lifted his nose and sniffed. He squinted and stuck his tongue out like he was _tasting_ the air. 

“Something’s here,” he muttered and pressed against a wall. He stuck his fingers into the crumbling brick, digging them into each and every crevice available. “Oh, this isn’t… nice.” 

“What?” Banri squinted at the poorly illuminated wall. “What is it?” 

“Shhhhhh.” 

Blue light shot out of the Witch’s fingertips and like bioluminescence, the entire section of the wall began glowing next. Tiny black spikes shot out, tumbling the stone that hadn’t actually been stone but rather very compact clay. A rotten door was revealed from underneath it, wood that had once been brown turned black from the dank and mold. 

Banri whistled. “Cool.” 

MIsumi eased it open. Whatever Runes or locks had bound it in place had withered away a long time ago. 

“The contract’s probably not in there, it can’t be that old." 

Misumi only groaned in response, seeing what was inside. “I don’t like this.” 

_That_ was enough to pique Banri’s curiosity. “Don’t like _what?_ ” 

He stuck his head past the threshold and stared. That answered it. It was smaller than every other room had been, resembling a closet more than a chamber. There were only two shelves within, each stocked sparingly of tomes and grimoires. Banri reached to take one up before Misumi smacked his arms down. A rare crease was in his brow. 

“Don't touch them,” he said softly. “Black magic. Lots of Bloodlines curse books so that any outsider who touches them gets hurt.” 

“How do you know that?” 

MIsumi averted his gaze and left, taking Banri by his wrist to force him out as well. “Dunno. We… If we come back, we should destroy these. Very, very bad books.” 

Banri didn’t know what to say to that. He dug his heels in. “Skin to skin?” 

“Huh?” 

“If we touch the books with skin, they’ll curse us. Do gloves work?” 

MIsumi’s face crumpled up. “Banri, let’s just leave.” 

“You’re the one who opened it up. Give me a minute, we still have one or two hours to spare.” 

He slipped on a pair of thin leather gloves from his pockets and started rifling through the shelves. These things were old and just terribly preserved. Forget yellowing pages, some of them were flat-out glued shut with grime. Every now and then, a stray spark flew out from an opened book which Banri took care to avoid. 

“Let’s get going,” Misumi complained. “I don’t… like it here. Bad vibes.” 

“Yeah, well, you should have thought of that before you decided to break down the wall, huh?” 

Banri paused his search. He slid a thick volume out and ran a finger over the embossed cover. Some of the title was too smudged and cracked to read but _Studie_ and _Geist_ popped out enough. German? He flipped through the cracked pages and frowned when he realized the entire tome seemed to be done in German. Geist. Geist… Ghost, wasn’t that? 

“We’re not going to take an entire book with us, Banban,” Misumi hissed, nudging him firmly. 

Banri clicked his tongue. He grabbed a fistful of pages and tore them out, folding them up and tucking them into his boot. “Fuck it. Whatever. Let’s get going." 

**47 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

Finally, a room that looked like it’d been accessed somewhere within the past decade. 

Misumi let the lock fall to their feet and dove for the chest. “Smells fun.” 

“Again? You’re going to open it _again?_ Dude, why are you like a drug dog but for magic, this is getting ridiculous.” Banri went for the slightly rusted filing cabinet. There, in the top drawer, under the C tab, were two big red folders. 

“Banri, gimme Tsuzuru’s knife.” 

He slid it over to the Witch and went back to the job at hand. He took out both of the red folders from the filer and flipped through the first one to be presented with a sheet filled with tiny, tiny text. Banri skimmed through the words for any raised flags. 

_The undersigned party, [TAICHI NANAO], a [CHANGELING] from [CHIBA PREFECTURE] will thus enter a contract with [RENI KAMIKIZAKA] upon the grounds of every following prerequisite and demands._

_• The whole, unfiltered truth when prompted for such_  


_• Absolute submission of inculpatory evidence_  


• _Unquestioned, unchallenged requirement to accept each and every mission_  


_• Given perjury or omission from court when…._  


And the list went on and on. 

Definitely the contract. 

Banri folded it up and put it in his pocket, right over his heart. Time to skedaddle. He put the two folders, one now empty, back into the cabinet and slammed it shut. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered to the Witch. 

Misumi held up a hand. “Hold on, I found something interesting.” 

The Witch had managed to undo the charm on the chest with a few shimmies this way and that of the magithetical knife underneath the clasp. Nestled within the black velvet within was a long scepter. Or it might have been a walking cane, Banri didn’t know how to tell the difference. The long staff was black, sleek metal with a large purple gem on the head that glittered. 

Banri tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Fuck. Fuck, man. I’m not gonna lie. That looks fuckin’ metal as shit.” 

It did, it so did. Banri never really had a chuuni phase, he skipped the “cower before my hidden darkness” chapter in his life to head directly for “no one talk to me, if you even look at me I’m going to kick you in the nuts” but this scepter was so close to making him change that. 

Misumi took it out first and swung it over his shoulder, nearly braining his accomplice with the purple gemstone. “You wanna touch it? It’s not black magic. Or, ummmm, not exactly. It’s like a cousin!” 

“Cousin…” 

Banri accepted its and gave it a practice swing like it was a bat. Then he tapped the end onto the floor, leaning his weight. A little too long to comfortably be a waking cane, it went all the way up to his armpit. Still was _so_ dope. It teetered that perfect line between embarrassingly edgy and genuine crypticness. Like, the scepter was maybe four metal spikes away from being too cringe. 

Absolutely perfect. 

Also, it buzzed. The scepter was cool to touch at first before there was a light hum on the metal that turned it hot. The gemstone glowed bright just like Misumi’s sparks. And _purple_. Banri’s favorite color. 

“I want it,” he said firmly. “I want this so bad.” 

“We didn’t come here for it, Banban.” 

“I don’t give a shit. The Coven can eat it. If I’m not allowed to have this, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” He gave it a baton-ish twirl. “GOD, IT’S SO COOL. What the _fuck_ , man, finally something goes my way.” 

Misumi smiled at him. “It’s nice to see you happy! Usually you’re all,” his face formed an angry little pout. 

“I don’t look like that.” 

“Yes, you do!” 

Misumi poked around the chest and found a folded note on thick cream paper. He squinted to try to read the calligraphy. 

“Let’s get going,” Banri said, walking out of the room and spinning the scepter in his hand. He wondered how he would hide it in his room. Maybe he could slip it under his mattress. “ got the contract. Note say anything?” 

“I can’t read it, the writing is too fancy.” 

Banri held his hand out for it. 

_Spith Gradért - The Staff of Misfortune. Immolate the light of heaven’s smile for power scorned and damned._

Spith? Fuckin’ stupid name, who the hell came up with that one. Immolate, immolate… What did that mean again? 

“BANRI, WATCH OUT!” 

**47.283 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

Banri felt something collide into his side and sheath something sharp between his seventh and eighth ribs. 

**47.284 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

It was like watching something in slow motion. 

Misumi yelled and tried to move, but it was like swimming in syrup. He watched as the hellion came howling, storming out of one of the tunnel’s inky darkness and ram into Banri, piercing through him clean with a horn. The hellion—Misumi had never seen anything like it. 

He’d heard of monsters being a thing in Japan, although most seemed to stay off of the island country. And those that did live there stayed in the countryside where they could exist without getting slaughtered by Hunters or humans alike. When he’d been fifteen and traveling with that circus for food, they’d visited… Yamagata prefecture, was it? Maybe Miyagi? Somewhere around the north, where there’d been the ocean. 

He remembered finishing up a trapeze act, grabbing a plate of potatoes and rice, and retreating to the seashore. There, he’d seen a selkie for the first time in his life. A very, very pretty older woman who’d taken off her seal skin to join him on the empty beach. He’d given her a potato, she’d taught him how to speak to animals. 

It wasn’t that hard, she’d said. All you have to do is listen properly. 

The selkie was a mythic, she said. There were difference between the mythics and hellions. 

“When you see a hellion, Witchling, make sure to run,” she’d told him before retreating back to the safe waters as a seal. 

_When you see a monster, Misumi, run. Run and get help._

_Yes, gr..._

Banri spewed up a mouthful of blood as the monster bucked, wrenching his insides around. The scepter clattered out of his hand. 

_Run_. 

_Run, Misumi._

_Run, NOW!_

_Sorry, grand.._. 

He lunged, blue lightning bursting from his fingertips. The monster bellowed angrily as the electricity seared its fur and Banri fell off of its horn like a Christmas ornament from an evergreen. The blessed boy moaned and curled up, hand pressed against the wound as blood spurted out in tiny gushes every time he moved. 

“Bad!” Misumi snapped, swiping his fingers on the ground. “Bad hellion! How could you hurt Banri like that?!” 

“…Chimera,” Banri managed, face white and already shiny with sweat. “Chimera. Motherfuckin’…” 

A ginormous, horrifying mesh of different animals. A lion’s upper half with teeth too long to be a real lion’s, claws too sharp to be nonmagical. The bottom half was all goat, kind of like Itaru, but white and spotted. In the middle, right where the golden lion met white goat, a second neck protruded of a goat’s head. Its horns weren’t curved like the demon’s back at the Coven—they were long and ever so slightly curved at the tips, like butcher hooks. To round it off, a long tail slithered behind the beast, a fat anaconda as bright green as a granny smith apple. 

All three heads opened and roared, bleated, hissed, showing off near identical fangs. 

Misumi slammed his heel down on his crudely sketched circle and felt his nonexistent eye ache. 

A black spike, bigger than any he’d brought forth before, exploded like an obsidian geyser right underneath the chimera. And yet, all it did was bound forward, faster than anything its size had any right to be, heading straight with lion jaw outstretched to tear Misumi to pieces. 

He pointed right at the gaping mouth and set off a new round of lightning. 

The chimera was flung back into the tunnel but it wouldn’t stay down for long. Misumi went to his knees in front of Banri, slapping him gently on the cheeks to make sure he hadn’t gone unconscious. 

“Frick, that hurts like a buttcheek,” Banri whispered. 

Misumi shook him. “Oh no, Banri, no, please, i’m begging, just say fuck like you always do.” 

“Snickerdoodles.” 

“Banri, no!” 

Banri lifted his hand, now uncomfortably sticky and warm, from his side and groaned again when he saw the gash in his side. That thing had horned him. He suddenly snorted. 

“Horny bastard,” he muttered. “Geddit, Witch? Horny… ‘cause—you get it.” 

“I get it,” Misumi said and smacked Banri on his face again. “B-Banri, you have to heal yourself. I can’t do healing spells.” 

The blessed boy moaned and tried to roll over. “Whyyyy?” 

“Because good magic doesn’t _work well_ with me!” Misumi snapped, and shook him again. “You—the Director’s healed your face, right? F-Fix the, uh, the inside bleeding first, please, Banri, come on, snap out of it!” 

Banri groaned again, bratty as ever even if he was that close to bleeding out. “Fuck it, man, I can’t, it hurts.” 

“Banri, you can’t die! _Please_ , you can’t die!” 

It was like the D word set something off inside of Banri’s head. He shot up, then quickly dropped back down once the bleeding started again. 

“Fuck,” he whispered and slapped a hand over the wound. 

He couldn’t die. Banri couldn’t die. Banri had something to do. Banri had to— 

He had to fix death. And he couldn’t fix death if he was dead himself, right? 

Right. 

Healing magic. Director’d done it before. Something latin, or had it been Germanic in origin? He let out a stream of syllables and half-phrases he thought sounded similar to back then and hoped for the best. He could feel the torn muscles and ligaments on the inside knit together ever so gently. The bleeding slowed enough for him to know he wasn’t going to pass out. The rest… The rest, the brownie would have to sew up when he got back. 

It’d be a good minute before he could move comfortably though. 

“Can you deal with the chimera,” Banri asked, reaching for the scepter he’d dropped. “For like two minutes?" 

Misumi shot to his feet. “Yep! If I try my bestest, I’m sure I could! Two minutes?” 

“Two.” 

He watched Misumi catapult his body into the air, sprinting on the walls like something out of a badly animated cartoon show. His feet barely touched the bricks and human bone as he forced himself higher, to the ceiling, as though gravity was just a recommendation he politely refused to acknowledge. The chimera came thundering back in, eyes hungry for blood and revenge. 

“Hiiiiii!” Misumi sang, dropping down on the thing. 

He brained the goat head with his foot, slamming his heel down over and over until something cracked and the goat head slumped over. Unconscious? Dead? Banri didn’t know. Misumi sat down and grabbed fistfuls of the lion’s mane, trying to force its head back with rough jerks. 

“SNAKE!” Banri yelled. “DON’T FORGET THE SNAKE!” 

The Witch snapped back just as the anaconda lashed out, mouth stretched like it would swallow him in one bite. Misumi laughed wildly as he was thrown off of the bucking monster, hitting the ground with a crunch of his spine. 

“Ooh, I think that knocked a kink out!” Misumi whooped, stretching. 

He cartwheeled and sent off another lightning bolt, aiming this time for the snake’s head. But, he figured, if it missed and hit the lion, it wouldn’t be too much of a shame. The chimera turned and the lion opened its mouth— 

Misumi frowned. 

The chimera was blasted back once more but with less force than last time. It managed to stay on its feet although it skidded down the length of the room. 

“Is my lightning getting weaker?” he asked sadly. 

Banri slowly got to his feet. “Yo.” 

“Uh huh?” 

“Move.” 

Misumi was about to ask why before he realized the lion’s mouth was starting to glow. And not blue like his lightning—red. Orange. The chimera reared back, jaw dropping open to reveal a torrent of fire pooled within. 

“Ohhhhhh,” Misumi gasped and then threw himself out of the way of the fire blast. 

**47.6 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

Banri slipped the pistol out from his belt and shot. 

He’d never fired a gun before but he expected the thing to hit accurately. He was genuinely surprised when the bullet missed the chimera by a long shot. 

That was new. 

“BANRI!" Misumi yelped from where he hung on the ceiling, clutching a protruding femur. “IS THAT A GUN? WHERE DID YOU GET A _GUN!_ I’M TELLING!” 

From that Poacher who’d taken Rurikawa. Banri’d taken his gun and not told anyone about it, electing to instead keep it locked in one of his drawers at home, but that wasn’t the issue right now. He aimed at the chimera who seemed to be taking in a deep breath to launch another pillar of fire and shot. 

_BANG_. 

The bullet didn’t even come close. Banri stared at the chimera and then at his hand in confusion. The fuck? 

“ _BANRI, MOVE!”_

The chimera roared, shaking the catacomb with its bellow and the fire that burst out of its mouth. Banri dropped to the ground, getting a face in a pile of soot from the last blast and nearly choking himself into oblivion on ash down his mouth. 

The scepter in his hand glittered and Banri was suddenly reminded of what immolate meant. 

Sacrifice, didn’t it? 

Sacrifice the light of heaven’s smile. Flowery language but if he had to guess, sacrifice… luck? His luck? 

The blessing? 

He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and stared at the scepter. This thing could take his luck away? Cancel it, maybe. Actually, as the hole in his midsection ached, it’d probably give him worse than average luck. Banri’s palm started sweating. 

The Spith could give his life meaning again. 

He yelped as Misumi slid towards him on his knees, colliding into his side and sending the both of them sprawling. Another fire blast missed them by a hair. The Witch urgently tapped his knee. 

“I’m going to teleport it up,” Misumi whispered. 

Up? But up was— 

Banri sneered. “Dude, you’re a fuckin’ maniac but I love you. That sounds perfect. Slip out in the chaos?” 

Misumi shrugged off his hoodie and threw it into Banri’s arms. “Tie this on your face, the cameras are on. I’ll use my flannel. Drawing a teleport circle takes some time, can you keep the monster distracted while I do it?” 

“You got it, Witch.” 

The two slammed grimy hands in a quick high-five. He watched Misumi bite down hard on his hand to draw blood and get to work, drawing quickly on the compact dirt. Red bled into murky rust but the Runes would be clear enough to do the job. 

Banri hoped, at least. 

He dropped the scepter in regret but he’d need luck on his side for this one. He aimed for the chimera’s face and pressed the finger down on the trigger. 

The beast howled as the bullet tore right through its eye, rearing back in agony. Of course. Boring. Banri fought the urge to pick up the scepter and turn this into a fair fight, otherwise it was getting ridiculous. He closed both of his eyes and fired the gun again, hoping, just hoping— 

Nope. The beast roared as both of the lion eyes were shot clean through. Banri scowled, excitement draining out of him completely. Fuck. What a fucking bore. The blessing was truly the worst thing he’d ever had to deal with in his life. 

“It’s done,” Misumi said with a gasp, wiping the rest of the blood off on his jeans. “Banri, c’mere, draw him in.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered angrily. The two of them drew back. He cupped his hands over his mouth. “HERE, KITTY! GET FUCKED!” 

The snake could still see, even if the goat head was still completely unconscious and the lion was blind. It bobbed its head and hissed, commanding the body to leap forward. The lion’s mouth dropped open, slobbering first and then revving up the oven for another hot belch. 

“Remember to send it two floors up,” Banri said. 

“Okaaaaaaay!” 

Misumi clapped his hands the second the lion’s claws touched the circle. His roughly drawn bloody mess burst into blue, illuminating the entire catacomb brighter than it’d ever been until then and the chimera disappeared without a trace. Everything went quiet once more. 

“We should go,” Misumi said. “Before they, um, before they put it on lockdown. Do you think Yuki’s going to be mad at us for not being really secret about the secret mission?” 

“Rurikawa can eat a dick if he’s pissed, I almost punctured a lung for that changeling bitch,” Banri snapped and leaned down to pick up the Spith once more. He rubbed his thumb on the staff and sighed as it grew warm. Life would be okay now. He had a cheat sheet to work against the cheat sheet. 

Or that’s what he thought until the two of them clambered back into the dumbwaiter, filling the small enclosure with the smell of ash, blood, and sweat. They could just duck in if they curled their knees and ducked. The Spith could not bend and it would not be able to go up with them. Banri’s heart fell. 

Misumi elbowed him. “Drop the scepter, it doesn’t fit inside!" 

“NO!” Banri snapped. “It’s mine! I want it! You don’t get it, man, I need this thing." 

“Banri, it’s not worth it if the entire plan goes bad and we die here! Let it _go._ ” 

“IT’S MINE!” 

“ _BANRI!_ ” 

Misumi elbowed the blessed boy, trying to knock some sense into him. Banri finally grit his teeth and dropped the scepter, giving it a sad kiss on its purple gemstone before it rolled away, in the direction of one of the tunnels. 

“I’ll come back for you, baby, just wait for me,” he whispered. 

Banri’s eyes prickled. This was the first time in a long while he could remember feeling upset over not being able to have something. He’d _always_ been able to get what he wanted and now the badass purple-black magic staff was off limits? Totally bogus. Maybe the world was starting to turn against him after all. 

Misumi forced him into the dumbwaiter and began pulling them up. Banri tied the hoodie he’d been handed around his head, making sure any distinctive features like his hair or his mouth and nose was completely covered. After a half minute of no sound but grunting and the creak of the pulley system, they finally arrived back to the supply closet. 

Banri slipped out first and pressed his ear to the door. 

Screaming. Lots and lots of screaming from the outside. 

He gave Misumi a thumb up as the Witch tied his yellow flannel around his own head. 

“We’re in the clear. Let’s split,” Banri said. 

Misumi grimaced and then bobbed his head. “I’m tired. I wanna go home and eat something big for dinner.” 

“Dope. I’m gonna go find Rurikawa and shove him into a trash bin for telling us this was going to be an easy thing.” 

“Noooo, don’t be mean to Yuki!” 

Banri cracked the door open. They’d have to sprint for the window 

As expected, the chimera was wrecking absolute havoc on the second floor. It could hardly fit in the hallways it was so massive, but that didn’t stop it from trying to eat every poor magician that crossed its path. All the gangly high and mighty Casters screamed bloody murder, sending Rune after Rune towards the chimera to no avail. It bucked and roared and blew fire this way that. 

Bureaucracy was crumbling to its lowest level of functionality all because of a part-lion, part-goat, part-snake bitchass had a bad day. It was almost beautiful, Banri thought. 

Beautiful until the chimera caught sight of him and Misumi. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I think it's still mad at us." 

“RUN!” Misumi yelled, seizing Banri’s hand. 

The two of them went sprinting down the havoc in the hall, taking care to duck and avoid any flying Runes or the chimera’s flame. 

“Who are you—?!” someone Banri didn’t give a shit about asked until a blessed elbow rammed into his solar plexus, knocking the air clean out of him. 

More Casters in the room shouted at them, or to the chimera maybe, but none of it mattered. They had to get out with the contract while they could. Banri tried to picture what the blueprint looked like and jerked Misumi first right, then through the deserted second corridor until they arrived at a window. 

Misumi didn’t hesitate, tucking his hand in and then ramming the elbow through the glass and wooden frame to shatter it. He stuck his head out and whistled as hard as he could. From the trees far away, a little sliver shot up and then zoomed towards them. 

“We need to find you something cooler to fly on than a rake, bro,” Banri muttered. 

Pounding. Flesh and hooves and snakeskin on linoleum. They glanced down the hall where something seemed to have been set on fire from the way orange and red illuminated the tacky interior design. 

“No time,” Misumi said, and then hauled Banri over his shoulders. 

“DUDE, WHAT? LET ME DOWN, I’M NOT A PUSSY!” 

“No time!” Misumi only repeated, this time joyously, and took a few steps away from the window. 

“HUH? BRO, FUCK OFF, NO!” 

“Woooooo!” the Witch sang and then kicked off of the opposite wall for a jumpstart. The soles of his sneakers barely kissed the floor as he shot one, two, three, four steps forward and then went crashing out the window, sending more glass and wood raining down below. 

“THE _FUCK,_ MAN!” Banri yelled as they want down. He squeezed his eyes shut as the concrete came rushing up to greet them—only to gag when Misumi grabbed the arriving rake with one hand and the two shot up into the air. 

Misumi laughed loudly. “YEAHHH! DID YOU SEE THAT, BANBAN? HOW COOL! AGAIN, AGAIN, LET’S DO IT AGAIN!” 

“ _NO, LET’S NOT DO IT AGAIN!_ ” 

Misumi heaved his body up and swung a leg around the rake, sitting properly. Banri, though, he let dangle, holding onto the blessed boy with just one hand and letting him hang in the air like laundry left to dry. 

“MISUMI, I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD, LET ME UP!” 

“No tiiiiime! Director’s gonna be back! We gotta rush!” Misumi sang. He tapped the rakes handle and they shot forward even faster, Banri screaming all the while. 

**48 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

Banri swallowed a bug. 

**48.5 HOURS AFTER THE DIRECTOR’S ARREST**

“They’re on their way?” Yuki asked sharply. “You sure?” 

“ _Mhm! I can see them. Kind of. Misumi’s going really, really fast. You should go open the office window, I think he’s going to throw Banri in._ ” 

“Throw?” 

“ _Yeah, throw_.” 

Yuki didn’t question it. He knocked on the Director’s office door and poked his head in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER WAS SUCH A PAIN TO WRITE BECAUSE OF THE LENGTH BUT YAY, FUN! Also, sorry for technically killing off the entire ensemble cast, i love them, i promise, i just think Juza deserved ghost friends
> 
> ALSO ALSO sorry for not replying well to comments in the last few chapters gfkjndsfgsfg i was either Too Invested In Writing or Too Afraid I'd Spill A Spoiler ( ^^ ; )
> 
> LAST NOTE: there are some spelling errors as usual but i will FIX THEM LATER, i am TIRED. When the fic's done i'm going to put like 2 weeks aside to just go through the entire thing and make sure all the spelling is correct but for now i will shower, eat, and sleep


	30. Riskier Leafy Beverage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS LATE, WORK + HEALTH HAS BEEN MAKING MY LIFE A NIGHTMARE. I actually fell asleep right when I got home and then woke up 3 minutes ago because "OH CRAP I FORGOT TO POST THE CHAPTER" anyways here it is!

Izumi wondered every now and then if maybe Tsuzuru was right, and whether it truly was her fault that the Coven was so chaotic. After all, with the binder found in Mayor Reni’s drawer, it was clear there was something sinister going on in the background that had her name on it. And, yeah, she _had_ ordered the first break in of the Main Hall.

But this was just clear proof that it wasn’t all her fault. (Maybe it was something in their water supply that made them all a little crazy, then? Time to send Matsukawa on an errand to replace the filter.) 

Izumi slumped back into her chair after hearing the whole story and didn’t know what to say. 

“And you really didn’t know any of this was going on?” she asked Tsuzuru. 

The Caster shook his head, equally at a loss. “This was my first time hearing about it, same as you.” 

“Hm.” She cracked the tense muscles in her neck a few times. “Alright. I really should be punishing all four of you for being involved in something like this. Really. But that can wait.” 

“It doesn’t seem fair to punish us when we just saved the Coven,” Yuki said, raising his nose into the air. “Totally unfair, actually.” 

“I can’t exactly _reward_ you for breaking the rules, though.” Izumi glanced out the window to the Witch who was doing loop-di-loops in the air. “Kiddo, get off that rake and come inside to take a shower, you’re all ashy.” 

“Okaaaaay!” Misumi disappeared from view. 

The brownie crossed his arms. “Bigger problems to deal with now than us just 'breaking the rules', Director.” 

Bigger problems indeed. She looked down at the contract in her hand. The sea of small print was intimidating. 

“I don’t know much about contracts with mythics,” Izumi admitted. “Do we just… set this on fire or something? Is that enough to free Taichi?” 

The changeling flinched a little. She couldn’t tell if it was from the word “free” or his own name. Both possibilities made her heart ache something fearsome. He was a _kid_. He looked _terrified_ of what was going on. 

Maybe it was Izumi’s biased opinion of Mayor Reni but she felt like Taichi’s job for the Council was massively different from how Sakyo had Yuki on payroll. 

Yuki shook his head. “No. Besides the demands being met, the only way a contract can be annulled is if we can find either a good enough loophole or if Reni violates one of his own requirements. We’re going to have to go through the entire thing and understand it like the back of our hands. Tell Wolf Mom to put together a pot of coffee and snacks because it’s going to be a long night.” 

One glance from her and Citron was already off to inform Omi to do just that. 

“Taichi,” Izumi asked. “Do you know how much time we have before the Mayor asks you for a full run-down?” 

He hesitated for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Mayor Reni said he’ll be sending some people to pick me up tomorrow.” 

“Chimera,” Banri spat, lifting himself from the hole in the ground. He’d managed to rub some of the dark cinder streaks from his face but his hairline was still terribly grimy. And in full honesty, the boy reeked like a sewer. “The Council’s gonna be busy trying to deal with _that_ ugly monster. We set it loose on the second floor as a distraction for the getaway.” 

Tsuzuru’s face fell even further somehow. “YOU SET A CHIMERA—?” 

“So we have a day at least,” Izumi interrupted and nodded. “Maybe more if Banri and Misumi’s little trip stirred things up. I’m assuming we can’t just hide you away somewhere?” 

Taichi shook his head. “No. He’ll be able to find me. And… And either way, if I go willingly, that’s breaking the contract. I can’t leave the Coven until Mayor Reni’s team is here to pick me up." 

Right. Then they’d have to work as fast as possible. 

Banri held up both hands. “Before that, I think I need Rurikawa’s help for a minute.” 

“Hah? Why?” the brownie asked, wrinkling his nose. 

Banri lifted his shirt. 

Izumi seized back and let out a horrified screech. “OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FFFFFFFF...” 

Tsuzuru collapsed immediately to his knees with a strangled “ _hurrrrrk_ ” like the sight was too much for his consciousness to deal with. Taichi flinched away. 

Banri frowned and looked down at the wound. “It’s not _that_ bad.” 

“HOW ARE YOU STANDING,” Izumi cried. “I—DO WE CALL THE AMBULANCE?” 

Yuki clicked his tongue, sizing up the hole in Banri’s torso. “It’s _fine_ , Director, I can deal with it. Settsu, my room. We’ll stitch it up nice and good, I’ll even avoid stabbing you a few times unnecessarily since you did what we told you to.” 

“B-But…!” 

“Make some photocopies of the contract so I can look it over when I’m done,” Yuki ordered, already heading out to get his kit ready. “Don’t get started without me either.” 

Banri dropped his shirt and sauntered in Yuki’s footsteps like he didn’t have a gaping hole between his ribs. Tsuzuru and Izumi stared at each other in horror. Taichi held up a shaky hand, face pale. 

“Is this _normal_ for you guys?” he asked.

* * *

Banri eyed the hypodermic from where he lay down on the bed. “What’s that?" 

“Lidocaine,” Yuki said, crossing his legs. 

Banri waved a hand. “Nah.” 

“…Nah?” the brownie repeated. “What, you’re too good for it or something?" 

“Anesthesia doesn’t work on me.” 

Yuki furrowed his brow. “ _Bull_ 'lidocaine doesn’t work' on you.” 

Banri furled up a pant leg to show off a nasty scar. “Got this a long time ago when a kid ran over me with his bike. Doctors had to stitch me and we found out then. Anesthesias don’t work for some reason.” 

Yuki opened and closed his mouth. He put the syringe back in his purse. “And you’re blessed? This feels contradictory.” 

“I dunno, man.” Banri reached for a spare swatch of fabric and began balling it up until Yuki slapped his hand. 

“Don’t you dare!” he screeched. “That’s Italian silk, how could you?!” 

Banri rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ. You got somethin’ you won’t get a blood clot at losing then?” 

Yuki snapped his fingers and brought forth a small hand towel from his desk. Banri twisted the linen and crammed it into his mouth, biting down. He lifted his shirt and gestured. 

The brownie blanched. “Are you for real? No numbing?” 

A muffled affirmative. 

Yuki cracked his knuckles to still his shaking hands before picking up the needle. He threaded it with surgical wire and shook his head. The idea of having to do what he usually did without applying a topical number made him a little squeamish. 

“This is going to suck,” Yuki said pointedly. _For the both of us_ , he added to himself. 

Banri closed his eyes and only grunted when the needle pierced his flesh to stitch the gash shut.

* * *

The two coming out of the dorm made an odd sight, surgeon paler than the patient. 

“You alright?” Izumi asked, handing them both cups of juice. 

Banri chugged it down and shrugged. “Fine.” 

“Never again,” Yuki muttered, ignoring the offered drink in favor of storming towards the living room. 

“What in the world did you do?” Izumi asked with a frown. 

Banri could only sneer as he stuck his hands back in his pockets. “Nothin’. Rurikawa’s just not as tough as he likes to act. Can I go home now?” 

“Free to go,” she said and held her hand up for a high-five. “Thank you for your hard work, kiddo. Think you’re going soft for us?” 

He gave her a withering look that served enough of an answer, but still returned the high-five. He’d be spending some time going over the pages in his boot and trying to translate German tonight. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids. Maybe Banri would take a nap first.

* * *

The process of determining who would help read through the contract had been fairly simple. 

Misumi had inhaled three bowls of rice with nothing but pickled vegetables as a main dish, and then fallen asleep like a rock in his dorm. Hadn’t showered and was still dirty like he’d rolled around on a rainy day, but Izumi would let it slide just this once. The kid deserved a rest. 

Everybody else, though, she corralled into the living room. 

“Raise your hand if you have any experience with mythic contracts,” she said. 

Yuki, of course, raised his hand. So did Tenma and Itaru. 

“Raise your hand if you want to stay and read through the contract for the rest of the night,” she added. 

This was where Tsuzuru and Sakuya’s hands shot up. 

So thus it was settled. The six of them would be sitting in the living room trying to crack down on the legal jargon. Citron and Omi would be the emotional support team, arms piled high with snacks and drinks when requested. Masumi was in charge of checking the perimeter of the building for the next few hours to make sure the Mayor wouldn’t jump the gun and send anyone ahead of schedule. 

“Oh my _god,_ ” Yuki whispered half an hour later as he flipped through the contract, eyes wide with horror. “You got shafted. You got completely and utterly shafted, didn’t you? I can’t even believe how bad this is." 

Taichi curled up like he wanted the carpet to swallow him up so he could avoid the shaming. 

It was one of those rare instances when both Tenma and Yuki shared the same facial expression. “For real, man. This is… This is _terrible_.” 

Tsuzuru slammed his xeroxed copy down in anger first. “That absolute _barbarian._ This is the most illicit wording I’ve seen in, in, I don’t even have the words. That MONSTER. I’m—” 

“Calm down,” Izumi told him, handing him a cup of coffee. “Break it down for me. What’s the problem?” 

“The changeling might as well have entered the same contract as myself and my summoner,” Itaru said smoothly as he turned a page, condescending sneer spread on his face like he was reading a funny tragedy. “It’s not common I see something like this drafted up in the mortal world. It’s complete servitude.” 

“It’s WORSE than just servitude, it’s borderline criminal to see this coming from someone in a political position,” Tsuzuru snapped. He held up the copy and pointed at one of the bullet points. “Just look at this, Director, it’s making my blood curdle. ‘ _Given perjury or omission from court when so solicited.’_ Do you know what that means?” 

“No,” Izumi said very simply. Despite the pleading from her mom, she’d never taken a single law course in college. 

“It _means_ that that son of a… mother has complete and utter control over what Taichi says or does when he’s brought in for an official statement.” Tsuzuru slapped it back onto the table and ran his hands through his hair. “That’s why the lawsuit wouldn’t have worked. If Reni told the changeling to lie on record, or to deny everything, he’d have been forced to.” 

Sakuya hesitated. He couldn’t make heads or tails of most of the words on the paper he’d been given. “This, um, this might be a stupid question but I don’t know. Can I ask what exactly happens if a mythic violates a contract?” 

Yuki and Itaru stiffened. They exchanged sour looks. 

“It’s ugly,” Itaru said finally. “For me, at least. If I deny a direct order, or I kill the sacrifice and reap his soul before my end of the bargain is met. Or, forbid it, try to kill my summoner in mutiny, I’m declared defective. Back to hell immediately and—hm. Consider what would happen to a malfunctioning robot when it’s brought back to a factory.” 

Yuki made another face. “For most mythics, it’s a lot of pain. Just, it’s a bother. I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“I think you have to, Yuki,” Izumi urged. “I’m sorry to ask this from you but we need to know exactly what we’re up against.” 

The brownie shuddered and rubbed his arms as though to urge the gooseflesh away. "A lot of our being is reliant on upholding agreements and promises. If we sign a contract, it’s like an ultimate… promise. You know that human rhyme? Pinky promise, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” 

Izumi winced. 

“It’s worse,” he said darkly. “It doesn’t happen often but I’ve heard the stories. Mythics going mad, or losing their sight and sense of touch. That’s why contracts are serious business, and that’s _why_ ,” here Yuki glared at Taichi, “we have to be CAREFUL about what we sign!” 

“I was _twelve!_ ” Taichi managed in a small voice as a defense. 

“Oh…” Sakuya frowned. “B-But why?” 

“Promises are important, changeling,” Itaru said with a shrug. “You humans are the peculiar party. It is why we demons feed off of you. You… lot, with your penchant for evil despite knowing it is so. Humans are nothing but contradictions. Broken promises, lies, blind clutching to whatever brings you comfort even if it kills you. Your willingness to throw your life away. The want to prosper, yet dislike for life without struggle. Tell me, do you—" 

“OH MY GOD, SHUT UP, WE GET IT!” Tsuzuru bellowed. 

Izumi smacked the back of his head. 

“I hate it when he talks like that! I hate it!” the Caster said, eyes tearing up from either frustration or ire or both. "He gets away with it because of the fire and the horns and his symmetrical face that makes him objectively hot by conventional standards but I hate it!” 

“I know, Tsuzuru, I know,” Izumi said with a sigh, rubbing his back. “Let’s take it down a notch though. Solution oriented, right?” 

Everyone began flicking through the contract again, highlighters squeaking. 

“God, this is a terrible contract,” Tenma muttered. 

Yuki shot him a glare. “Shut up. Like you know anything about a _good_ contract.” 

Tenma pursed his lips but didn’t offer a reply. 

Tsuzuru capped his highlighter and chucked it at a wall, burying his face in his hands like he was inching closer and closer to finally losing all holds onto sanity like the rest of the Coven had long suspected he would. “We need more information. We can’t—there’s no loophole right now. It’s so stacked against us. This is the crappiest contract I’ve seen in my life.” He shot a look at Taichi. “How could you have signed this?!” 

“I was TWELVE!” the changeling repeated, near tears as he squirmed harder. “I’m… are you sure there’s nothing you can do?” 

Silence. Izumi cleared her throat. 

“We’re going to find something, Taichi,” she said without an inch of hesitation. “Even if it takes us all night. I’m sure there’s something we can do.” 

“We need Furuichi,” Yuki piped up suddenly. 

Tsuzuru and Tenma yelled, “NO,” in unison like they were both running on instinct. 

He shut them both down with a severe look. “I don’t give a crap about whatever stupid dispute your families have with him. Is he anywhere on my very short list of favorite people? No. But _has Sakyo Furuichi proven himself time and time again to be one of the few people in power who care about mythics?_ Like, at the very least, the bare minimum amount of respect? Yes. We need his help.” 

Omi took this moment to set down two trays of apple slices for everybody to snack on. 

“It’s true,” he said softly. “Mister Furuichi goes out of his way to ensure the mythics of this city can have a decent standard of living but he stays covert about it. No one knows the exact numbers, not even his own force, but I wouldn’t be surprised if more than half of it was comprised of magician-passing mythics.” 

Another moment passed where no one spoke. 

“Will he stay quiet about it?” Izumi asked, face very calm. “There’s no way we can phrase this where he won’t know what’s going on. If the boys unleashed a chimera in the Main Hall and Reni knows a contract’s gone missing, he’s going to connect the dots. Sakyo’s going to know we had something to do with this break in, and probably assume we did the last one as well.” 

Omi hesitated. 

Yuki didn’t. “Honestly? I think so. The stingy old man is weird. He’s loyal to the Council, no one is going to doubt that. God knows I won’t be able to understand why, especially when it’s clear as day Reni is a piece of sh…” 

His voice pattered out at Izumi’s pointed cough. 

“Tch.” He looked away. Shame fabric was expensive otherwise he would have racked up a tab without a care in the world like Banri. “Reni’s a jerk. Common knowledge. Sakyo works for him and does what he says but despite the glasses, the man isn’t blind.” 

Yuki suddenly pointed to Sakuya. “You.” 

“Me?” 

“You. You see the good in just about anyone and anything, right? What do you figure of the mess.” 

Sakuya went pink. “I don’t—I wouldn’t say I’m special in that way! I… I just think there’s maybe a reason for some things.” 

“Okay. So what do you think the reason for Sakyo might be?” 

The Witchling went thoughtful. He bit on his thumb. “I think if I were in Sakyo Furuichi’s shoes, I’d work as hard as I can to stay close to the Council and work on the inside. To help mythics. Even if it meant following an administration I don’t agree with one hundred percent.” 

Yuki nodded and glanced at the Director. “There you have it. We need his help.” 

Tsuzuru rolled his eyes. “Thank _god_ he’s whipped. Director, give him a call then. There’s nothing else we can do." 

“Whipped?” Sakuya asked, tilting his head to the side. “What does that mean?” 

Itaru snorted and pushed the plate of apple slices in Sakuya’s direction. “You’ll learn when you’re older, Witchling.” 

“Ah?”

* * *

Interestingly enough, the phone call went well. 

If one was willing to stretch the definition of well. 

“ _Director, tell me you didn’t have anything to do with the chimera set loose on the second floor_ ,” Sakyo said in the same voice Tsuzuru used when one found him sitting in the corner of the kitchen at 5 AM, gnawing on jar of peanut butter that he couldn’t seem to open. Pure and undiluted exhaustion. 

Izumi rubbed her forehead and leaned back until her back hit her dorm wall. “Well… Well, to be fair, I didn’t know about it until a few minutes ago.” 

She waited. This was the make or break moment. Either Sakyo Furuichi would sell her down the river or hoping for the best would pay off. 

“ _You were in my apartment during the event,”_ Sakyo said finally. “ _At least you personally have an alibi_.” 

She let out a relieved sigh and then grinned. “That I do, Sakyo. That. I. Do." 

“ _The security footage showed two individuals exiting from a supply closet. Witnesses report them having male body types. Their getaway was in a camera blindspot but fast enough so that first-respondents couldn’t catch them._ ” She could almost see his lips pressing together until they went white. “ _Misumi, I take it? And who else, Miyoshi?_ ” 

“Not… Not Kazunari.” 

The Hunter sighed so heavily, the call stuttered. “ _What is this about the contract?_ ” 

Yuki, the only person who’d insisted on following her for the private phone call, held out his hand. She put it on speaker instead and set the phone between them. 

“Old man?” the brownie drawled. 

“ _Tailor? What are you doing there?”_

“I’m a part of the Coven now, senior citizen with a glue trap wallet.” 

Sakyo spluttered. “ _Since when did the Coven accept mythics?_ ” 

“Since me, loser. Let’s stay on topic, shall we?” Yuki’s face twisted into something darker. “It’s complete servitude.” 

More static. “ _Pardon?_ ” 

“Complete. Servitude.” Izumi watched the young boy begin running through a quick summary of all the worst things. The unfair demand for Taichi’s silence when requested, even for serious misdemeanors. The horrifying minimal time Taichi was allowed to have for himself between missions, the absolute honesty that denied any amount of autonomy or privacy. “It’s disgusting. Even if the Coven wasn’t on the line for this one, we can’t let something like this be allowed. We _need_ to find a loophole.” 

Sakyo didn’t say anything for a while. 

Finally, he settled on, “ _Do you have a copy of the Council’s charter with the Coven?_ ” 

“Charter?” Izumi repeated. 

“ _When the Coven was established officially with Mayor Kamikizaka’s father in office, a charter should have been filed. This contract sounds difficult to work a way out of without using some form of legal pressure. Director Tachibana, as the acting High Priestess of the Mankai Coven, whatever legal power you hold should be specified in that charter. You need to get a copy of it_.” 

Izumi fought the grimace that tugged at the corners of her lips. That sounded like a whole lot of jargon she’d have to sift through. “Do you know where I’ll be able to find a copy? It’s not in the Coven’s archives, we already catalogued everything in that place.” 

“ _There should be a copy within the Council’s Archives. Unfortunately, the Main Hall is on a complete lock down and I won’t be able to get that for you._ ” 

“Okay,” Yuki said with a shrug. “So another break in then? I can get the blueprint now—” 

“NO!” Izumi and Sakyo bellowed in unison. 

Sakyo sighed again and there was a ruffle on the receiver like he was shifting the phone away to rub his temple. “ _All Council documents, upon getting notarized, should have a secondary copy available in the city’s Athenaeum. Go as soon as possible. Minagi or Sumeragi should know the address._ ” 

“Got it.” She smiled as she reached for the phone again. “Thank you, Sakyo. I’m sorry for always being such a bother.” 

The Hunter huffed, but ever so soft like he couldn’t find it in himself to be truly upset. 

“ _Help the changeling, Director Tachibana_ ,” he said at last. “ _The mythics of this city have been trampled upon for decades if not centuries. We help those who we can_.” 

“You can bet your butt I’m not going to sit by and let this Coven get brought down, mister,” Izumi said. 

“ _I wouldn’t doubt it even for a moment_. _The less I know, the better, but I have faith in your ability._ ” 

“Grooooossssssss,” Yuki complained. “Old people flirtiiiiiing. Save it for the retirement home or something.” 

“I AM NOT THAT OLD,” Izumi yelled as Sakyo roared, “ _We are not flirting, Tailor!_ ”

* * *

Izumi slapped herself on the cheeks a few times to get her head in the game. Another long, sleepless night beckoned. A good thing she appreciated the time she had in Sakyo’s apartment while she could. 

“How’d it go?” Tsuzuru asked the minute she walked back into the living room. 

“Sakyo says we need to find a copy of the Council’s Coven charter,” she told him. “You know where we can find the, uhhh… Athenaeum or whatever?” 

Tsuzuru went white. 

“No,” he said simply. 

Izumi frowned. “No?” 

“No. We are _not_ going to the Athenaeum.” 

Izumi leaned down and poked him in the middle of his forehead with her forefinger. “I really don’t have the energy right now to play around, Minagi. Cut the ominous foreshadowing. What’s wrong with the Athenaeum? What even is it?” 

“It’s not the Athenaeum that’s the problem,” he moaned, pressing his palms to his face. “It’s the Bloodline that runs it.” 

“What? What Bloodline? Do I know them?” 

Tsuzuru gave her the dirtiest look he could muster. “You would know their head already.”

* * *

Homare Arisugawa wore very, very interesting pajamas, Izumi noted. 

Oversized blue silken ones. Which might have been classy and even, dare she say it, cool, were it not for the several, bright and multicolored owl patches stamped on it as well. Top and bottoms matching, paired with a little sleeping cap that had the same print. 

“Director Tachibana?” he asked, rubbing his eyes like he’d just risen from bed. “Why, a delightful surprise! But, pray tell, is there a reason for your calling upon an hour as belated as this?" 

Yuki tore his eyes away and swallowed, leaning his forehead on Sakuya’s shoulder. “God. I can’t even look at what he’s wearing.” 

Sakuya laughed and ruffled Yuki’s head. “It looks fun, doesn’t it?” 

“Don’t touch my hair, it takes time and effort to get it looking this good." 

“Sorry for the late visit, Homare,” Izumi said apologetically, forcing a smile she couldn’t feel. “We’re on a bit of a time crunch though and this is really important. Do you mind if we come in?” 

“Quite a large crowd!” Homare said as he clapped his hands and swept into the large house. “I wonder if I have a tea cup set wide enough to accommodate all of you. Bah, we’ll have to see. Enter! If you so dare my abode." 

All five of the current Legal Team (Itaru had been left behind in favor of guarding the Coven in their absence) had traipsed the half hour journey it took to get to the Arisugawa estate. Tenma, just the same as Tsuzuru, stood there buzzing with nervous energy like he’d be publicly humiliated for just _being_ in Homare’s line of sight. Izumi really thought it was getting ridiculous. Especially since out of everybody in the city she’d met so far, Homare was on the upsettingly short list of people who hadn’t either A: been a giant asshole to her, or B: threatened her bodily harm. 

And that meant something since at least two or three of the people in the _Coven_ weren’t on that list. 

“Pardon the intrusion,” Sakuya said politely as he slipped his shoes off and entered within. 

It wasn’t as huge as Tenma’s house, that much was obvious from just the outside. If the Sumeragi estate was like the Buckingham Palace, then Homare’s house was what Izumi would have expected a nobleman’s manor to be. They were near opposite in color schemes. The Sumeragi mansion was all whites and silvers, gold and marble. Homare’s floors were gorgeous dark wood with blood red carpets, maroon furniture, and… plates. 

Lots, and lots of fine china plates. 

Like, a surprising amount. Instead of paintings, or clocks, there were just plates on the walls. 

Izumi wasn’t one to judge though. If she could spare the funds and time to really get her head into the interior design world, she’d probably plaster posters of curry everywhere. Maybe even get portraits of her favorite curries done. If Homare liked fine china as much as she liked curry, to each their own. 

“Chamomile?” he asked politely as he stepped into a kitchen so nice, Omi would have swooned at the sight of it. “It is late, after all, I wouldn’t want to force you to stay awake any longer than you have to once your visit is done.” 

“It’s going to be a long night, coffee would be great if you have it,” she said. 

He glanced over his shoulder. “I see. May I know why?” 

Tsuzuru was tapping his foot on the floor. He jabbed her once in her back. 

“Really sorry to break up the polite small talk,” he hissed. “Need I remind you that we might be shut down by _tomorrow_ if we don’t get in and out of here as soon as possible?” 

Homare scoffed loudly, startling him. 

“Nonsense, Tsuzuru Minagi!” he cried, switching on the kettle with flourish. “No situation is too dire to sacrifice a cup of lovely tea. If a long night awaits you, perhaps we should be foolhardy and go for a riskier leafy beverage! Early Grey it is.” 

Sakuya clapped softly, eyes wide. “Wow. He’s so cool… Every time he talks, it’s like I’m watching a clip from Downton Abbey!” 

Homare’s fingers danced in the air, trailing bright red lines in their wake as he scribbled out Runes. 

Scribbling several Runes, Izumi realized in surprise. Each finger was writing a different one at the same time. 

He sent them flying all around the kitchen, fetching different things. A little pot of honey with one of those little wooden honeycomb stirrers you only saw in commercials, a pretty ceramic sugar bin, and several cups from the cabinet that proudly presented many different sets. It was as though he’d brought the entire kitchen to life with just a flick of a wrist. 

Tsuzuru looked away. “So flashy.” 

Izumi grinned and elbowed him. “Jealous?” 

“Shut _up_.” 

Sakuya tugged on her sleeve. “How did he do that? Is that something I’m going to learn how to do?” 

“That’s not _normal_ ,” Tsuzuru hissed. “He’s just a weird guy!” 

The kettle sang, cutting him off. Homare didn’t even bother looking at it, just sent another Rune over his head like it was second nature. Another flick of his hands, the way a conductor would command an orchestra, set off the sound of chairs scraping on wood from the other room. 

“To the dining hall!” he cried jovially, and marched forward. 

_Squeak!_ went his fluffy slippers. 

Yuki let out a sound that teemed with disgust. 

“Are we really going to just sit around and drink tea?” Tenma asked. 

Izumi shrugged. “I mean, if tea’s what we need to get into his good graces. We do need that charter after—wait, did he just say dining hall? Not… room?” 

“Rich people make me sick,” Tsuzuru muttered.

* * *

Dining hall was unfortunately accurate of a term and not just Homare being superfluous. 

What was it about Bloodlines and their desire to be fancy, Izumi couldn’t help but ask herself as she stared at the heavy silk curtains and the chandelier. The table itself was awfully long, like it was ready to fit more than twenty people at any given moment. There was a ginormous hearth at the end, behind the head chair, that looked like it was made to roast whole cows for show. 

“Rich people make me _sick_ ,” Tsuzuru repeated but now with a bite of genuine anger as he stiffly walked forward, refusing to be overwhelmed by the splendor. 

Sakuya’s eyes had those stars again. “This house is like a museum!” 

Tenma pursed his lips, following the Witch. “…My house is bigger. OW! What was that for?!” 

Yuki didn’t bother apologizing for the swift kick. 

The summoned tea set danced in the air as they took their seats. If they sang, the scene would have been straight from Beauty and the Beast. The kettle spun wildly, pouring piping hot Earl Grey and filling the hall with a divine, earthy smell. 

A seat slid out for Homare like it was sentient. He sat on it like he was a king instead of just a Caster in strange pajamas. 

“Come, come!” he cried. “Tea for all. You’ll have to forgive my lack of desserts to provide at the moment, company is rare and we don’t take mind to keep a large quantity in reserve.” 

Izumi forced Tsuzuru into a chair and sat beside him, ready to punch his thigh if he started acting up. “No, it’s fine, Homare. Thanks for the tea.” 

“Thank you!” Sakuya said, blowing on his own cup. 

Tsuzuru scowled and dumped half the entire bin of sugar into his Early Grey. 

“You are _disgusting_ ,” she muttered to him. 

“And you are the bane of my existence,” he returned before slamming the cup back and chugging the mess. 

Gross. 

Izumi made another note in the back of her head to either give Tsuzuru a vacation or to check him in to a two night, three day self care course. 

“So, what is this about needing the Athenaeum?” Homare asked as he circled finger, stirring his tea with magic. 

Sakuya stared at him and then began turning his own finger in mimicry. His tea cup shattered. 

“SORRY!” he yelped immediately as hot liquid splattered everywhere. 

Homare didn’t even look at him, sending three Runes his way to first repair the tea cup, then disappear the tea to somewhere mysterious, and last of all remove the stain from the fine white tablecloth. 

Izumi forgot just how powerful the heads of Bloodlines could be. 

Tsuzuru reached for the sugar bin again like he was ready to just start spooning the granules into his mouth. She smacked his hand away. 

“We have a bit of an issue with the Council,” Izumi said honestly. “We need to get a copy of the charter it has with the Coven. Legal matter that’s a bit pressing and might not be able to wait for tomorrow. I heard you might have a copy of it in the Athen—Athenaeum?” 

Homare hummed and bobbed his head. That one peculiar long lock of hair swung in the air like a pendulum. “If it’s been notarized, then we should most definitely have it down there. Although, it must be said, Director Tachibana, most access to all legal documents need to be approved by the Council first before accessed within my home.” 

Izumi clasped her hands together. “Please, Homare, I swear I wouldn’t even be asking if it wasn’t a big deal.” 

The Caster frowned and crossed his legs. _Squeak!_ his slippers went once more. “My Bloodline has prided itself on following the orders of the Council. The Athenaeum is the family gem. You can understand why I’m a little hesitant to be bending the rules, can’t you?” 

Her stomach sank. “Yeah, but—!" 

“Homare, honey? What’s all the noise for?” 

The Caster's tea cup clinked as it returned to its saucer. “Mother, it’s quite alright. Just some late visitors inquiring about the library.” 

Homare couldn’t have been much older than Izumi. Maybe three or four years. At the word mother, she honestly expected to see someone similar to her own mom. Someone in their fifties or sixties, with peppered hair dyed desperately to keep a visage of youth. 

Izumi did _not_ expect someone with a head of snowy curls that looked more wrinkled than an apple that’d been left in the sun for too long. 

“Old,” Yuki muttered like he couldn’t help himself. She quickly knocked a knuckle on the back of his head to chastise him. 

Tsuzuru and Tenma both rose from their chairs the moment the withered woman walked in. Sakuya quickly scrambled to do the same, even if he seemed a little at a loss as to why they were doing so. 

“Madame Arisugawa,” Tsuzuru said, strangely reverent. “It’s an honor.” 

The woman chuckled and waved a wrinkled, veiny hand. Her wrist clicked at the simple movement. “Sit down, boys. It’s been years since I’ve abandoned that title.” 

“Once a Madame, always a Madame,” Tsuzuru said, taking the hand in his own to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Especially after all _you’ve_ done to earn that title. I hope you’ve been doing well, my mother and father send their regards. They’ll be so pleased to know I finally got a chance to meet you.” 

The crone smiled and patted his cheek like a fond grandmother. “Will they, now? I’m sure your mother would share a few words knowing you’re here with my son.” 

He flushed bright red and didn’t say a word. 

“Oh, please, I’m just teasing.” The old woman, Madame Arisugawa Izumi pieced together, said with a chuckle. “You can’t blame me for trying to keep a little wit on the tongue, even at my age.” 

Her watery eyes flickered to Tenma who stiffened under her gaze. 

“The Sumeragi heir, I take it?” she asked. 

He nodded once. “Yes, Madame.” 

“A fiery head of hair just like your mother’s. She must be so proud to have borne such a dashing young man.” 

Tenma pinked and cleared his throat a few times. Yuki scoffed at his sheepishness. “Thank you, Madame.” 

To Sakuya. 

“And that would mean you’re the Firstborn Witch then,” she said kindly. 

He gave her that big, winning smile of his and nodded firmly. “Yes, ma’am!” 

Tenma nudged him. “ _Madame_.” 

“Y-Yes, Madame!” 

“Bah! Call me Midori,” Homare’s mother said, fixing the gold-rimmed glasses on her face that hung on a chain. “I’ve heard the rumors about you. It’s good to have a Firstborn Witch again. Gives this old bat some hope for the next generation!” 

Homare sighed dramatically and rested the back of his hand against his forehead. “Mother, what have we said about you calling yourself ‘old bat.’ It is _so_ uncouth. How could an ‘old bat’ have birthed such a vision of beauty and genius such as myself?” 

“Yes, yes, Homare, whatever.” 

Oh, to be told whatever by a walking historic relic. 

Midori Arisugawa fiddled with her glasses once more when she faced Yuki. “Hmm… a glamour. Pixie, perhaps?” 

“Brownie,” he said primly. 

Tenma’s face drained of all blood. “Show her some _respect_ , Madame Arisugawa poured blood, sweat, and tears into our society.” 

Yuki inspected his cuticles knowing damn well they were pristine. Izumi rolled her eyes. The fourteen year old diva would have looked God in the eyes and feigned disinterest. 

Madame just chuckled even harder, going so far as to pat her knee. 

Finally, she lifted her head to look up at Izumi. 

Izumi couldn’t tell if the woman was small or if she’d just… shrunken with aging. “And you’re that Izumi girl, aren’t you? Yukio’s daughter?” 

“That I am, Madame Arisugawa,” she said, shaking the woman’s hand. Her skin felt leathery and worn but soft. “Fourthborn Witch, currently teaching the Coven.” 

Homare’s mother smiled wide. So wide, her dentures slipped a bit. Izumi told herself not to laugh. She gave Izumi a pat on the cheek as well. 

“My son told me about you!” she said warmly. “You were the lady who danced the men’s part.” 

Tenma’s scandalized choke was both insulting and very funny to hear. 

“That would be me, yeah,” Izumi said. 

“Such a pretty young woman.” 

Homare huffed. “Mother, isn’t it time for you to go back to bed?” 

“Hush now, Homare. Head of the Bloodline you might be but this is still my roof,” Midori said sharply. 

Homare crossed his arms and honest to God pouted. 

“Now, Izumi,” Midori said. “Why are you here?” 

She swallowed dryly. “We have a bit of a situation at the Coven. We need access to the Athenaeum,” why magicians always used fancy, ridiculous, hard-to-pronounce words, Izumi would never understand, “to get a copy of the charter. The sooner the better.” 

“Is that all?” Midori asked. She took her glasses off and rubbed them against her silk bedgown. She placed them back on and nodded. The chain jingled merrily. “I don’t see the problem. Homare, sweetheart, bring them down to the stacks.” 

“ _Mother!_ ” Homare whined, standing up. “That’s against the rules!” 

Midori rolled her eyes and leaned in. She placed a hand against the side of her mouth and feigned a whisper. “You’ll have to forgive my son for being a stick-in-the-mud.” 

“MOTHER!” 

“That’s enough. Bring them down.” The old lady gave Izumi a strange smile with a twinkle in her eye. “I’ll be here when you’re all done and ready. Now, Homare.” 

The owls on Homare’s pajamas burst to life, hooting their displeasure. Nevertheless, the Caster let out a dreary and woeful sigh and swept across the hall. 

“If you’ll come with me,” he said flatly. 

Izumi glanced at Midori Arisugawa who only offered a shooing motion for her to follow him. 

And thus, the Coven entered the city’s library. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I wrote about 4k words of this chapter last night in a slight haze of dehydration-caused delirium. Had to delete all of it because A: most of it wasn't coherent, B: it didn't follow the outline????, and C: for SOME REASON i kept thinking Tenma's name was Rachel. Instead of Tenma. Interesting.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	31. Undefined

Homare led them down another hall, this one much narrower than any other they’d seen. There wasn’t even enough room for two people to walk side by side one another. They all were in a single file, with Homare at the head and Izumi bringing up the back. Sakuya, of course, was right behind the Caster, adding an involuntary hop to each of his steps as he just about bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement. 

“Have you ever been to an Athenaeum before, Director?” Tsuzuru murmured over his shoulder. 

“Kid, I’m from the countryside. The closest thing to a magic Athenaeum I had in Akita was my dad’s office. You?” 

Tsuzuru didn’t say anything. 

Izumi kneed him in the back of his thigh, causing him to stumble into Tenma. 

“Watch it,” the Hunter snapped. 

“Sorry.” Tsuzuru shot her an ugly look. “No. I’ve never been here before.” 

That was a surprise. “It’s a _public library_ for _magic_. I’d have figured you’d be the biggest fan of this place.” 

His continued silence came with an awful revelation on Izumi’s part. She crossed her arms. 

“You didn’t come here because of _Homare_ , huh,” she hissed, glancing at the Arisugawa head to make sure he couldn’t hear them. “That’s awful." 

“My mother and father would have had my head! I don’t think you understand how sincere I’m being when I say that the magicians of this city avoid that guy like he’s the bringer of plagues.” Tsuzuru shuddered. “If they knew I was in his house…” 

Something wasn’t clicking. “But you were about to start licking the ground his mom walked on?” 

“Midori Arisugawa, even before marrying into that family, was one of the most talented, hard working civil servants in Japan, let alone the city.” Tsuzuru sniffed and rubbed his face on his shoulder. Was he crying? “She hasn’t left this house in more than a decade. I’m just happy I got to meet her in the flesh.” 

Izumi kneed him again, harder this time. 

“Stop that!” 

“You’re such a dick to Homare!” Izumi spat, still whispering but voice taking a harsh edge. “It’s such bullshit, Tsuzuru. Name one actually valid reason as to why magicians in this city give him crap!” 

Tsuzuru gave her another look. This time, it was with less bitterness and more hesitant wonder. “He’s weird. Just… weird.” 

“Are you kidding me? Is this the third grade? Are we on a playground?” Izumi clicked her tongue. “I’m so disappointed in you right now. Keep walking, Minagi.” 

“Director—" 

“Zip it." 

Homare stopped walking abruptly. Sakuya collided into his back. 

“Sorry!” he peeped. 

“Pay no mind, ye fiery youth,” he said airily and knocked his fist on the wall by a large framed art piece depicting a red sun rising behind a torii. “Right here.” 

Homare traced a bright red swirl on the wall and the frame elongated, stretching like rubber until it kissed both the floor and the ceiling. 

“Mind your step!” Homare called before walking through the canvas like it was just an illusion. 

Sakuya didn’t even hesitate. He just about threw himself into the painting to follow. Yuki and Tenma were next. 

Rather than go in next, Tsuzuru leaned against the hallway and put a hand over his breast like he was telling his heart to be still. 

“You’re so dramatic,” Izumi said. 

“I can’t help it. The Athenaeum is off limits but it’s just a _fascinating_ thing. Do you know much about pocket dimensions, Director?” 

Izumi’s eyelids drooped but her brows raised. 

Tsuzuru waved his hand. “I’ll take that as a no.” 

“Man-splain away.” 

“I—! This isn’t man-splaining!” 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m mad at you so it’s man-splaining. Get on with it or else they’ll think something happened.” 

Tsuzuru took in a deep breath and let a quick stream of an explanation loose. “It’s just so fascinating, really. They take so, so, so many Runes and so much magic power to make but they’re so helpful. If our universe is a tree, then a pocket dimension is as thin as a spider’s thread. They’re side by side one another and never, ever intersect. _But_ with magic, you can create an opening to that smaller dimension and access it however you want. And, theoretically, there’s an infinite number of those tiny, tiny, tiny universes." 

Ah. 

“Free real estate,” Izumi said. 

“…Yeah. At it’s core—yeah.” Tsuzuru wet his lips, eyes sparkling. “The Arisugawa ancestor _created_ the Athenaeum in a pocket dimension. But it’s—it’s a ridiculously large one.” 

She snorted at that a little. “A large universe. Sounds like an oxymoron, yeah?” 

“Eh. If the rumors I’ve heard are right, it’s an accurate description. Most pocket dimensions, although there aren’t many people who can access them, have doors people can summon. The Athenaeum is _so freaking big and complex_ that the only way anyone can access it is through this house.” Tsuzuru smacked the back of his hand against the hallway wall. “Because it needs a physical structure to bond to.” 

Cool. 

Izumi waved her hand. “Are you going in or not?” 

Tsuzuru closed his eyes. “Give me a moment to emotionally prepare myself. I’m getting excited.” 

“Oh my god, Banri’s right, you _are_ a nerd.” She seized him by an arm and hauled the college student into the painting, hopping in next to the sound of his outraged yelp.

* * *

One of those moments when, looking back on it, maybe Tsuzuru had been in the right. 

They _should_ have taken a moment to emotionally prepare themselves. 

It was one of those things where in your head, you thought you would be ready for it. And then, upon actually confronting That Thing, you realized that you wholly and utterly _were not ready for it._

Izumi stared at the seemingly never-ending chamber. As far as the eye could see, it stretched on and on with towering shelves that seemed to be as large as _buildings_. The ornate, beautifully painted ceiling was too high up to see clearly. The sheer size of the room itself was enough to give her heavy vertigo and anxiety. 

Tsuzuru broke her out of the daze by tapping her shoulder. 

“Do you have a tissue?” he asked thickly. 

Jesus Christ, he was _really_ crying. Tears as fat as pistachios were dripping down his cheeks. 

“You big baby,” she muttered, bundling a sleeve up in her palm and wiping them away. “Isn’t this a little ridiculous?” 

“It’s so beautiful,” Tsuzuru managed. “It’s—It’s the largest collection of magic tomes on this side of the country.” 

Izumi hit him on the shoulder. “And you _didn’t come here_ because your mom told you Homare was a little whacky?” 

He was starting to look truly pained. Maybe she was being a little hard on him. “Director, magic society isn’t a cakewalk like you’re making it out to be.” 

“No. Maybe it’s not.” Izumi frowned. “The flaws in magic society so far is what’s gotten us in this big mess, don’t you think?” 

He didn’t say anything to that. 

“Director! Over here!” 

Sakuya’s voice. She turned and jogged over to where the small crowd of her students and Homare were sitting in what looked like a tractor wagon but fancy. 

“The Council’s officiated documents should be in Section AALO8893, if I remember correctly,” Homare said, reaching into his pajamas and removing a pocket watch. Did the guy go to sleep with that thing? “It’s a bit of a ways. Unless you’re all prepared to take a four hour hike, this will be a much more suitable method of traveling the Athenaeum and I’d greatly advocate for its use since these slippers were not made for traipses.” 

As though to illustrate his point, Homare stomped his slippered foot on the ground and punctuated his statement with a _Squeak!_

Izumi clambered onto the carriage and sat beside Tenma. 

“Did you know about this?” she asked him, still looking around it. 

He shrugged. “Kinda. Not much of a reader.” 

If Yuki gave an even sharper HA! he would rupture a vocal cord. 

“Shut up!” Tenma snapped, flushing red. 

“Illiterate silver-spoon baby.” 

Izumi snapped her fingers twice. “Knock it off. We’re here for a reason.” 

Tsuzuru sat beside her. “Uh. Mister Arisugawa, do you have an available catalogue on every tome you keep here?” 

Homare leaned over the railing of the carriage and tossed a few Runes down instead of answering. 

“Do hold on,” he said gaily. “The tram can be a tad of a shocking experience for first timers!” 

Tenma choked. “This—does it go fast? How fast? I don’t do good on rollercoasters so—HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" 

Sakuya shrieked as the wagon suddenly shot off like a race car down the length of the library, until each passing shelf turned into just a blur. Yuki and his low body mass was practically flung out of his seat, crashing into Tsuzuru and driving the air out of both of their lungs. 

“OH MY GOD!” Izumi screeched as her hair flew into her face, blinding her. 

Homare’s loud “AHAHAHA!” rang louder than any of their screams. 

Tenma’s question was surprisingly accurate. It was exactly like being on a rollercoaster, only not downwards and with nothing to hold onto except the rails behind their backs otherwise they’d be sent into the air. 

And the experience lasted for a whopping eight minutes. 

The second the carriage finally slid to a stop, Tenma leaned over the edge and began dry heaving. 

“What the FUCK!” Yuki bellowed, trying to put his hair and then the ruffles on his dress back in order. 

It took a minute for Izumi to be sure that her vision was straight again. “Language, Yuki.” 

“THE MADMAN ALMOST KILLED US!” 

“Well, yeah, a warning might have been nice. Tsuzuru, you—” Izumi glanced at him and started. “Oh my God, Tsuzuru, are you okay? Tsuzuru? Tsuzuru! IS HE DEAD?” 

Yuki looked over and waved a hand in front of his face. The Caster was just barely able to respond with a _hhhnnuuuuhhhhh?_ that didn’t bring his eyes to focus. “Nah, he’s fine, just a little unconscious.” 

“Marvelous, wasn’t it?” Homare said brightly, hopping to his feet. “It took me near an entire week to figure out how to make the tram go that quickly. I try to beat my record every year.” 

Izumi glanced at Sakuya to make sure the Witch was alright and was greeted with the _funniest_ hairstyle she’d seen from him yet. Sakuya’s slight curls always made his hair a fluffy mess in the mornings but this time, each lock was sticking out in a random direction like the ride had scared the follicles from functioning properly. 

His eyes had bright stars. “Can… Can we do that again?!” 

“NO!” Tenma yelled before forcing his head over the railing again to continue retching. 

Homare stepped down the carriage steps and started to walk down the path in-between the shelves. “Let’s take a look here. Charter, charter, charter… Council, Mankai Coven… Any idea around when it was established?” 

Izumi sure didn’t off the top of her head. 

“Forty-eight years ago!” Sakuya said immediately. 

Izumi started in surprise. “Kiddo, you know?” 

He gave her a wide grin. “Of course! That’s one of the bits Matsukawa told me before you came.” 

“Forty-eight,” Homare mumbled. He leaned his head back and squinted. “Should be up there, then.” 

He clapped his hands twice and a leather-bound album slid out of the bookcase high above their heads and floated down. He opened it up and began flicking through the tabbed pages. 

“Ah! Charter, yes, here we are.” He slid out a packet of thick creamy paper encased within plastic and brought it over for Izumi to look at. “Is there anything else you’ll be requiring? While the wheels upon the tram are still steaming, they say!” 

“Who is they?” Izumi cried. She pointed to Tsuzuru who was, at Yuki’s manipulation, lying flat on the carriage seats and staring at the ceiling emptily. “You might as well have killed the poor boy!” 

“Nonsense, the rush will do him some good. Look at me, Director Tachibana, I ride the tram just about every day and I’m simply glowing with beauty and youth begotten only by gods among men!” Homare hugged himself and did a quick twirl in the middle of his words. 

Casters. Why was it always the Casters that were the obnoxious bastards? 

She shook her head and looked down at the charter, frowning when all she could see was minuscule writing done by a steady hand and a thin pen nib. Way too many words to be able to sift through comfortably here. 

“Are we allowed to take this out of the Athenaeum?” she asked. 

Homare physically shuddered like she’d just asked if she could spit on the books. “Goodness me, _no_. The Athenaeum, most of it, is open to the general public at any given moment but it’s strictly forbidden to take any of these items outside. There are some pieces to our collection that are so rare, I’d be a fool to say that they’d be replaceable. Especially old government forms. Why, if it weren’t for my mother so foolishly giving you the green light for reasons that escape my understanding, you wouldn’t even be holding what you are holding in this moment. You know, when I was…” 

At that point, Izumi just tuned him out. She slipped her phone out of her pocket and snapped a picture of each sheet. 

“No cell service?” she asked, trying and failing to text it to Omi. 

Tsuzuru shot up. “Are you stupid? We are literally in another dimension right now, you think there’s _cell service_ here to text? Why are you so stupid, I can’t stand you.” 

He flopped back down again, tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

“Did he wake up just to call me stupid?” Izumi asked. 

Yuki checked his pulse. 

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “Which is honestly somewhat impressive but I refuse to give Minagi a single reason to be proud of himself.” 

She was going to wrangle Tsuzuru by the neck when he was awake. 

“Mister Arisugawa, what do you keep in here exactly?” Sakuya asked. 

Homare’s back bent to an unnatural angle as he threw his head back and laughed gleefully. “A simple question that is so very, very difficult to answer in mortal words, young man! Why, the Athenaeum is the blesséd ground of so many wonders. Nay, to even suggest such a temple of the written word could be described borderlines sacrilege.” 

Sakuya blinked. “Um. So… So books, right?” 

Homare leaned against a shelf and patted it fondly, smiling like he was greeting a long time friend. “Books indeed, Sakuya Sakuma, the first of the Sakuma Bloodline.” 

Izumi choked at the words Sakuma Bloodline. 

“Appreciate being within these walls for nothing quite like it exists anywhere else. Generation after generation of my family’s unflinching resolve to collect, store, preserve, and redistribute the culmination of mankind’s knowledge.” Homare’s single long lock of hair was swaying so much with each of his grand gestures, Izumi was beginning to wonder if it had a life of its own. “To give a _number_ on how many of these precious relics would have been lost and forgotten had they not sought refuge within the arms of my grandparents, my great-grandparents, so on and so forth. Blasphemy!” 

Tenma let out a groan and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t tell if he’s speaking weird or if I’m just dumb.” 

“It’s both,” Yuki said without mercy. 

“Hey!” 

Sakuya spun in a slow circle, eyes drinking in each and every grimoire. “So… So all of these are about magic, then?” 

“Most. Some are just history books or first edition novelties we’re fond of keeping as well.” Homare waved a hand further down the stretch of library. “At the very end is a cafeteria. It used to be a sitting room but mother remodeled it for the weary traveler since before the tram, trekking the length of the Athenaeum could take a whole day or more.” 

A library big enough to be a _day’s_ worth of travel. Izumi tried to wrap her head around that. How many football fields was this place? How many IKEAs? 

“Do you have books that Witches could use?” Sakuya asked. 

“Oh, I’m sure we could scrounge up a thing or two that isn’t in the restricted section.” Homare chuckled to himself. “Perhaps you may be a Firstborn of the current famine of magic we are living through but that does not matter here. Here we have many a word from your predecessors, all tucked and cherished within pages and covers.” 

Sakuya swallowed nervously. “Really? More… Firstborns like me?” 

“Certainly!” Homare scoffed like it was the most ridiculous inquiry he’d ever heard. “This is the _Athenaeum_. Every word of magic in the world exists either replicated or original within these walls.” 

A bold claim, Izumi mused to herself. Then she looked around the room. Actually, maybe it was founded on firm ground. There had to have been something written inside of all of these books, after all. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to read all of them even if she dedicated her entire lifetime to doing so. 

Yuki’s back straightened. “Changelings. Do you have books on changelings?” 

Homare’s face fell immediately. “That is—Hm. I do not like that question, young brownie.” 

Yuki clicked his tongue. “My name is Yuki Rurikawa. Remember it. You were just preening and bragging about how you have everything here, weren’t you? Then you _should_ have something on changelings. Or were you just saying whatever you wanted to make the Sunshine Maniac happy?” 

Homare dropped his jaw in offense. “Why, I never—! The _nerve_ of you to speak such words under my own roof!” 

“Sunshine maniac?” Sakuya repeated. 

Yikes. Definitely not someplace she wanted to be banned from so early on. Izumi put a hand on Yuki’s shoulder and clicked her tongue to calm him. “Now, now, Yuki, uh, let’s not get too riled up.” 

He shrugged her off without even sparing a glance in her direction. “Well? Do you or do you not have information on changelings?” 

“ _Changelings_ aren’t real,” Homare snapped. “We have aplenty a book on the mythos behind them but they’ve never been explicitly confirmed to exist. Especially not in recent times. Furthermore, you rude _garçon aux oreilles pointues_ , the elven population in Japan is abysmally low.” 

Yuki’s nostrils flared. It was a battle between two unflinching prides that no one in the room was properly equipped to deal with or deescalate. 

“We have a changeling in the Coven,” he said through gritted teeth. “A mythic who signed a contract without knowing what to do. The entire reason why we’re here is to help him dig out of the grave he jumped into four years ago and if you’re going to look me in the eyes and claim that changelings aren’t real just because you don’t know for sure, then that says _enough_ about your damn Athenaeum.” 

Homare pursed his lips. The owls on his pajamas burst to life again as though fueled by his emotion, hooting so vehemently that Izumi was sure they’d be curse words if they were in a human language. 

“Yuki, do you think the sass can wait _after_ we try to get our work done?” she hissed. 

Yuki didn’t even reply to her plea. 

Homare clapped his hands again. 

From way off, perhaps even half a mile down the library, a thick, dusty book whizzed towards them like a flying cement block. It stopped in front of Homare dutifully before opening up to a page. He pointed to it like it was all the evidence he needed to cow Yuki into submission. 

“Perhaps, Yuki Rurikawa,” Homare said snootily, “it would beguile you to bother knowing what you speak of before you fling such egregious accusations towards someone who is _helping_ you.” 

Sakuya took the book and started skimming quickly, hungry for more information. 

“Anything interesting, kiddo?” she murmured to him as Yuki and Homare continued their odd little stare-off and battle of wills. 

Sakuya hesitated. “This… It’s—It’s just a story though, right, Director?” 

If it was anything like the folktales most magicians grew up with, Izumi would hope it was just a story. 

Changelings. 

The elven spawn left behind when the sneaky mythics crawled into the homes of unsuspecting humans and stole their newborn babes from the cradle. Legends suggested that maybe elves just wanted their kids to have human upbringing. 

Darker legends said that elves adored the taste of newborn flesh. 

Neither legend was particularly nice to think about. 

“Is…” Sakuya took in a deep breath through his mouth. “Is this what Taichi is?” 

Izumi pursed her lips. “We can’t know for sure, kiddo. But that’s not important right now. We have the morning, let’s work through a thing at a time and make sure our Coven is safe.” 

Sakuya swallowed nervously and nodded. “Right.” 

Tenma crossed his arms from his seat in the carriage, growing green once more. “We’re going to have to go through that hell to get back to the front door, aren’t we?” 

“Ah!” Homare whipped his head away, breaking the little stare off between himself and someone nearly half his age in youth. “How wonderful! The tram seeks reason to fly once more, it seems!” 

Tsuzuru let out a dry sob from where he lay.

* * *

“He’s so heavy,” Tenma wheezed as he lugged Tsuzuru through the painting. 

The Caster gave a tortured groan. “Stop… swaying… I’m going to be sick.” 

“DON’T THROW UP ON ME, I’LL KILL YOU! THIS IS _LOUIS VUITTON_!” 

Sakuya cleared his throat, turning his thumbs in a small circle. “Mister Arisugawa, uh, would it be alright if I came back again? You know. If the Coven doesn’t shut down and everything. I—I’d like to go through the books and try to see if I can find something interesting. Especially about past Firstborns.” 

Homare blinked like the question was too absurd to fully register in his mind. “A ridiculous thing to be asking, young Witchling. The purpose of the Athenaeum is to provide information to anybody who so cares for it. Regardless of class, race, or any of the meaningless groups people distinguish by. Knowledge and education is a basic human right that should be available to all those who live and breathe, no?” 

Izumi’s heart swelled at those words. 

It was so _ridiculous_ to think that the city thought of Homare so poorly. Sure, the guy was a little on the odd side, but he was a _good guy._

“I hope you all found what you were looking for?” 

Izumi glanced over her shoulder to see Midori hobbling their way, knobby knuckles clutching a new walking cane. 

“Just about,” she said before bowing low. “Thank you so much for everything. We’ll be out of your hair now, there’s a lot of reading we have to do tonight it seems.” 

Midori sucked on a loose denture and smiled again. “Izumi, would you mind so much if I asked you for a moment of your time? In private.” 

“Mother, you really must be getting to bed,” Homare tutted. 

Midori rolled her eyes. “Can’t your mother have someone to talk to one-on-one every now and then, son?” 

Homare’s lip curled with distaste. It neared a childish pout but wasn’t quite there. “And I suppose this private talk doesn’t include myself, hm?” 

“Yes, Homare. That is what I meant by private.” 

He stomped his foot on the ground once. “Mother!" 

God, Izumi would have loved to talk to this fascinating old lady for an entire day but they really were on a crunch here— 

“It’ll take only a moment,” Midori added. 

Sakuya tugged on her sleeve urgently. “Go ahead, Director. It might be something important. I’m sure the Coven can wait a few more minutes.” 

Izumi sighed to herself. 

“Alright,” she said at last after forcing a smile on. “I’d be happy to."

* * *

Midori let out a soft, almost cute _oof_ as she collapsed onto the first chair she reached in the dining hall. Every joint released a cacophony of groans as she sat. “There’s no reason to be so tense, Izumi. You can feel at ease, I truly did just want to speak to you.” 

Izumi cleared her throat. “Sorry if I come off that way. It’s just been a tense few hours and I’m feeling a little worn out.” 

“I can imagine. Running a Coven can’t be easy.” Midori slid a steaming teapot closer to the Witch, different from the one Homare had used. “Have some tea. I’m afraid I can’t drink much at this hour or I’ll struggle to sleep properly but I can’t imagine how desperately _you_ would need it.” 

Izumi poured herself another cup as she was told to. 

Midori looked pleased by this. “You know, I was very happy when Homare came home from the ball last month. He was smiling so serenty about having had a dance partner for once. Thank you for dancing with him.” 

It was sweet and heartfelt but Izumi still felt second-hand embarrassment wash over her. “No, no! It wasn’t—I didn’t do it just to be nice. It wasn’t a _pity_ thing or anything like that. Homare’s a great dancer and he knows both parts. It worked out for both of us, he’s a good guy, I don’t know why he’s got such a bad reputation or whatever.” 

Midori’s gaze didn’t change much but had a layer of woe come over it. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve watched newcomers to the city try to get into Homare's good graces before shirking away from his personality. I can tell the difference between pity and not.” 

Izumi clamped her mouth shut. 

Midori pushed the sugar bin towards her next. “Have some sugar with your tea, dear. I can’t stand that tar when it’s black. Much too bitter.” 

Izumi added a spoonful. 

“Do you mind if I talk a little like an old person?” Midori asked, tilting her head to the side. “Humor this elderly woman. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had such a young person available to lend an ear." 

“Yes, of course, Madame.” 

“Call me Midori. I gave up on the Madame title for a reason.” Midori took her glasses off, chain and all, to let them rest on the table. “Miss Tachibana, do you have any plans to have kids of your own one day?” 

Oh boy, not a question Izumi had thought she would have to answer. “Somewhere down the line, I think it’d be nice. Not now though, right now I’m a little married to my work.” 

Midori chuckled. “I said the same thing when I was your age. Put aside relationships and just about any shenanigans in the pursuit of magic. I tried so hard to build society further and further. I only got married to dear Isao, rest his soul, when I was in my late thirties. My own parents were scared pants less that I would wind up a spinster.” 

Midori took the sugar bin back and stirred it lazily with the tiny spoon inside. 

“You understand how important blood is to magicians, don’t you?” Midori asked suddenly. 

“Yes, ma’am. My father wasn’t a heavy advocate for it, he married a magic-less like his father before him, but… yeah.” Izumi bobbed her head. “We were never too crazy about preserving magic strength. I know a lot of families have different views." 

The hue around MIdori turned even sadder somehow, even though her smile continued to cling stubbornly to her lips. “Isao and I tried to have a child. The great Arisugawa family that ran the Athenaeum for generations necessitated one. Why, I was so pleased to know I’d be able to join such a Bloodline.” 

Izumi watched as the old woman took in a breath, laughed once, and then dabbed at her eyes. “Then we found out I was infertile. We were told a child wouldn’t be possible.” 

Izumi reached inside of her pockets and grabbed the first soft thing she could find, an old café paper napkin, and offered it forth. 

“I was so, so afraid of what society would think of me. I’d worked so hard to be worthy in their eyes, I’d dedicated my entire life to being the definition of the perfect magician. Being told I would not be able to carry on the Bloodline… why, I was so sure whatever worth I had as a person was demolished. Adoption never even occurred to me in my time of strife.” Midori waved the napkin off. “I’m quite alright, dearie. Thank you for hearing this old woman out, I know you have better things to do at this hour.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Izumi said softly. “Go on, Midori." 

“We got the news when I’d just had my sixtieth birthday. Somehow, through a miracle, I was pregnant.” 

_Holy crap, they were boning until she was sixty?_ Izumi thought, before telling herself _Not the time to be thinking about that_. 

“The pregnancy was complicated. Labor was complicated.” Midori giggled as though she had told a joke only she would understand. “Good heavens. I was in labor for over thirty hours. And—at some point, I tugged Isao close to me and I told him, I told him that if it came between saving me and saving the baby, he would save the baby. And I told that man that if he let the baby die but myself live, I’d curse him until he burst feathers like a chicken.” 

The old woman snorted fondly as she recalled the distant memory. She leaned back in her chair until her curly head rested comfortably on the plush head cushion. “I still remember holding Homare for the first time. He’ll raise a fuss like the dickens if he hears me talking like this but he was just the cutest wee babe you’d ever seen. I’ll show you the pictures one day if you return to this house." 

Izumi didn’t know how to feel about that but she decided not to comment. 

“He was the apple of my eye. Still is, to this day. The boy could come home saying he’d accidentally set the Athenaeum on fire and I’d still make him his favorite thing for dinner if he asked for it.” Midori shook her head. “But Homare’s always been a tad different from the others.” 

“Different isn’t really good in the upper echelons, huh,” Izumi could only offer. 

Midori’s face soured. “Sweetheart, you can’t even know the beginning of it.” 

Izumi really, really couldn’t. 

“I was obsessed with meeting society’s expectations and being the epitome of perfection. I thought… I’d thought that my son would be in that picture of perfection as well. What a fool I’d been back then.” Midori sighed deeply and rubbed the spot between her eyes. “Lord. The hours I spent reminding him to look people in the eyes. He spoke so _much_ when he was young, babbled and babbled without taking the time to breathe, and then went completely silent until he turned nine. Isao and I felt _humiliated_. The way people would whisper behind our backs whenever Homare came with us for the events, it made ants writhe beneath our skin." 

This was starting to get a little too much, a little too private. Izumi wondered if it was okay for Homare’s mother to just spill so much about a man she didn’t even know very well, just shared a dance with once at a party. 

Midori’s hand dropped. “And then… and then I realized. On his thirteenth birthday party, Isao’s younger sister came to visit. Well, I figured she was jealous. Had we not had Homare, _her_ son would have been the one to inherit the Athenaeum even if he didn’t have the Arisugawa last name. And she asked me… she asked me if I ever felt cursed. If I would go back in time and wish I hadn’t had Homare, or if I wished he’d have come out ’normal.’” 

Oof. 

That was _ugly_. 

“What did you do?” Izumi asked. 

Midori let out a loud HA! in response. “Dear, why do you think I gave up the Madame title? The name can hardly be used when you hex your sister-in-law out the door with her hair turned to tentacles.” 

Izumi grinned. Man, she was starting to like this old woman a lot. 

“Isao was furious with me until I told him what she’d said. The wench hasn’t been invited for Christmas ever since,” Midori said, crossing her legs. The blue nightgown swished with the soft sound that only came from the finest of silks. “A part of me is glad she said those terrible, terrible words though. It clicked for me in that moment. Would I go back in time and change things so Homare was the perfect little boy I’d dreamt of when I was pregnant with him? 

“No. No, I wouldn’t have. Because that wouldn’t be my darling Homare anymore. It wouldn’t be the son I birthed, or the little wailing baby I held in my arms, thinking it was a parcel from God himself.” Midori wiped her eyes again but Izumi got the sense that none of it was from remorse. “I love him for all he is, eccentricities and all. Uniqueness and all. Society can be damned if it doesn’t accept my boy but Isao and I agreed. We always would.” 

Izumi reached forward and patted Midori’s knee. “Homare’s lucky to have a mother like you.” 

“Nonsense. I’m lucky to have a son like that.” The fond smile dropped. “I have thirteen more years until I turn a century old, Izumi.” 

Jesus Christ, a _century_. Izumi wasn’t even a quarter of that yet and she already had some days when her joints hurt so bad she couldn’t walk without hissing. Midori Arisugawa was— 

Oh, God. Midori was almost as old as the Queen of England. Crazy. 

“Congratulations?” Izumi said slowly. 

Midori shook her head. “No, no. I’m… admitting that I might not have that much time left.” 

No, no, no, way too much heavy talking for someone she’d just met. But Midori was old and Izumi just listened to what the woman had to say. 

“There might be a time in the future… no, it’s certain. One day, Homare will have to live a life where neither his father or I will be there.” Another crease appeared in Midori’s withered face. “When that time comes, I don’t want him to shoulder the burden of being different and cast aside by elites too stodgy to scratch his surface and see the genius he is beneath it. When I heard that the High Priestess of the new Coven was willing to dance with him at the ball—an odd, pretty thing that knew the men’s part. I was so happy.” 

“Midori, I’m not that special,” Izumi confessed. “I’m just… a twenty-four year old who grew up in a fairly more progressive time amongst magic-less.” 

Mrs. Arisugawa slapped her thigh once as though chiding her. “And now, whether you care to admit it or not, you are brought into a position of power. As a High Priestess, you have so much influence over the next generation of magicians. You have the ability to shape how the generation turns within your own two hands. Izumi, dear. All I am asking, by telling you this tale, is that—that I urge you with all my heart to form a society where any next Homares don’t have to walk halls on his own. Do you understand?” 

Maybe it meant something. 

Maybe, despite living with Tsuzuru who refused to stop a project even if his body was shutting down, despite living with a genuine demon from hell that had small pink flames in his irises, it said something that Izumi had never sen such a fiery gaze in her life prior to Midori Arisugawa’s eyes in that moment. 

“Yes, Midori,” she said, bowing her head low. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that comes true.” 

“Good!” Midori stood. “Oh, let me add one more thing. If you’re single, I’d like it if you would go on a date with my dear boy as well. Grandchildren would be so wonderful to spoil at least once before I die!” 

Izumi spluttered. 

Midori laughed, voice high and clear. “I’m kidding, Izumi. For now, at least.”

* * *

“Don’t do that.” 

Taichi jumped, heart hammering. He turned around in the bedroom to face the scariest ghost he’d ever met in his _life_. 

Which was saying something because Miki back at the Council could be a real scary spirit when he was annoyed. 

“Please don’t kill me,” Taichi said immediately. 

The ghost scowled, already narrowed eyes going smaller to slits. “Stop that. That’s my cousin.” 

Muku Sakisaka was cousins with a ghost? 

Wait, the ghost looked familiar. That was the guy Blessed had shown him a picture of, wasn’t he? 

Taichi melted out of it. “Sorry. It’s a habit. Don’t feel too comfortable just, uh, being in my own skin for too long.” 

“Don’t do Muku. ’S weird.” 

That was fair. Taichi was pretty much used to it, but if someone else could shapeshifter, he’d probably be a little freaked out by them looking like a family member too. 

Family… 

_The man who called himself Doctor placed a little manila folder of information down. “It’s a very rare situation, Mrs. Nanao. I’m afraid even in the very long, secret history of magic, there’s almost no accessible record of a changeling’s confirmed existence. Before… Taichi, that is.”_

_“Changeling?” his mother asked hoarsely. “I-Is it a disease? Will Taichi be okay?”_

_“Mama,” he murmured, tugging at her pant leg._

_“Shh. Not now, sweetie.”_

_Doctor let out a breath through his nose. “I’m afraid I’m going off entirely from legends and what mythos there is to be scrounged up at this point. Elves themselves are very mysterious and private creatures. They populate Europe more often than Asia.”_

_“Elves?” his mother repeated._

_“Changelings are elven spawn who are replaced with human children.” Doctor frowned again. “They gift their own borne children with the ability to change appearances. Namely, to change appearances with the human child they take. After the ability is given, the switch occurs.”_

_His mother stopped breathing. Taichi tugged on her leg again, worried._

_“Excuse me?”_

_Doctor bowed his head. “I’m sure this is difficult to take in, Mrs. Nanao.”_

_“T-That’s… That’s ridiculous. No.” His mother pulled him up to her lap and hugged him close. Taichi leaned his head on her chest and couldn’t help but wonder why her heart was beating so loudly. “How dare you? Taichi is—what?”_

_“Was there a period in your son’s baby phase when you weren’t by his side?”_

_“…My husband and I went—it was just—what are you talking about?”_

_Why was his mother shaking? Taichi snuggled deeper into her chest._

_“Mama,” he murmured again._

_The Doctor bowed his head. Taichi didn’t like him very much. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Nanao.”_

“I won’t do it again,” Taichi promised meekly. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean for you to see it. I, uh, I didn’t know you were there.” 

He glanced at the clock. 3 AM, duh. That was when the ghosts at the Main Hall were visible too. Dead people were kinda nice. Dead men tell no tales, and all that—but honestly, Taichi just liked having people who were willing to listen. Like Iku. He looked 15 and talked like a grandfather, but he was still really nice. Even though he usually ended up telling all of Taichi’s secrets to the Councilmen. 

Taichi shook himself of the thoughts. The ghost was floating away now towards a wall and— 

—and Taichi really wanted to talk to someone. 

Someone not living, preferably. 

“I didn’t know the Coven had a spirit haunting it,” he blurted out. “That wasn’t in any of the files I read on it.” 

The ghost frowned. “Haunt?” 

“Yeah. Um. Haunt. How old are you?” 

“Seventeen.” 

Taichi cleared his throat. “Yeah, man, I mean like, when did you… you know.” He gestured vaguely. “Your, uh, jersey looks pretty modern so I’m curious.” 

“Last year.” 

“That’s recent. What’s your name?” he asked next, taking a seat on the bed. 

The ghost did the same in the air, crossing his legs and floating there. “Juza. You’re the changeling.” 

Taichi swallowed nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s me.” 

“Whatever.” 

This guy really didn’t talk much, did he? That was alright though. He was like Kengo then. Most of the ghosts at the Main Hall could talk for hours about what they did when they were alive. Or what they hated about the changing times. All in all, a quiet ghost wasn’t a bad thing. 

“Why are you here? I thought only Coven members could come into my room,” Taichi said. 

Juza shrugged. “Dunno. I stayed in this room sometimes before you came. S’quiet.” He made a face. “Better than the kitchen.” 

The kitchen. Taichis’s stomach growled. He rubbed it and begged it to stay quiet. Omi Fushimi was in the kitchen, whipping up something that smelled delicious and cinnamon-y before the Director and her entourage came back. They’d be coming back soon. 

Taichi tried not think about it. 

Thinking about it ended up making his chest hurt with hope. 

He remembered something Mayor Reni had told him a while ago. With a particularly stubborn degenerate, simple beating and coercion wasn’t enough to break them completely. You had to bring them low and then give them hope. Hope for escape, hope for improvement, whatever. And then you snatched the hope away. Maybe suffering wasn’t enough to tip one over the edge but disappointment always was. 

“ _Mayor Reni, why are you so nice to the Bloodlines even if they annoy you?” he asked as he and the man walked through the garden._

_Reni reached up to poke a blossoming flower on a tree branch. He smiled at it._

_“Nanao, do you know the story of an avalanche, a hiker, and his loyal canine companion?” Reni said._

_“No, sir.”_

_“When all you do is beat a dog and try to force it to listen to you… it very well might one day. But a dog that is convinced it is loved, a dog that understands it has a master. When a mountain of snow buries a hiker, the beaten dog will leave him to die. The beloved dog will stay and dig him out, even if it passes from exhaustion right afterwards.”_

_Taichi frowned, trying to wrap his mind around that. “I don’t get it, Mayor.”_

_“You needn’t. Come, Nanao, let us get you something to eat.”_

_“Yes, sir!”_

_Reni chuckled. “What an appetite you have. Afterwards, we’ll discuss your next assignment.”_

_“Yes, sir."_

Juza floated towards the ceiling. “Gonna go outside. Bye.” 

Taichi waved, lost in his thoughts. “Bye.” 

“Don’t wear Muku’s face.” 

He flinched. “I won’t.” 

Taichi lay flat on the bed as his skin itched. He stared at the back of his hands, both so familiar and foreign. 

Blegh. 

He’d just stop thinking about it. 

Taichi rolled over. Sleep did not come.

* * *

Omi greeted them warmly when they got back to the house. 

“Itaru already printed out copies, he’s waiting for you all in the living room,” Omi said, handing them each a cup of coffee as they passed by. “Yuki, I hope you don’t mind, I gave you a mocha. I don’t reckon heavy caffeine is too good for someone your age.” 

Yuki frowned. “Why’s that?” 

“Because caffeine stunts growth,” Tenma said. He paused. “But I guess you don’t have to worry about that.” 

Yuki slashed his hand through the air and the carpet beneath Tenma’s feet bucked, sending him careening to the floor with a yell. 

“That’s enough!” Izumi snapped, sitting on the couch beside the demon. 

Itaru’s hair was up again and oddly greasy. After the debacle was over, she’d have to force the guy into a bath or something. He scanned the document quickly one more time with his eyes and got to highlighting. 

“Yukio Tachibana,” he said, reading aloud one one of the signatures. “Your father, I take it? How old is he?” 

“Dad was older than mom. I think he founded the Coven when he was sixteen?” she said softly, tracing a part of his signature with her thumb. It’d been a long while since she’d seen it. 

But there were more urgent matters than nostalgia to deal with. 

“Past tense. Dead?” Itaru asked. 

Tsuzuru walked by and smacked him on the back of his head. “Smooth. Real good work at being sensitive, goat boy.” 

“I will feast upon your innards, sacrifice.” 

Izumi snorted. She shook her head. “Nah. He went missing eight years ago when the Coven shut down. Might be dead, might be off in the tropics with a new family while he denies his failure by constructing a new life. Kind of stopped caring about it at this point.” 

“Fascinating. No long-held desire to find him?” 

“No.” 

Itaru circled a passage and shifted to show it to her. “Look. A clause on a right to privacy. Would that be of use?” 

Tsuzuru crashed into the last available cushion, can of condensed milk in hand. “The right to privacy is ingrained in every agreement with the Council. With Bloodlines, Covens, whatever. Doesn’t matter if he gets Taichi to lie on the record and say he did it of his own volition outside of Council orders." 

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack drinking that sugar glue,” Izumi chastised. 

“I’m literally sitting next to the guy I involuntarily sold my soul to, uhhh, so I don’t care?” Tsuzuru shot back before cracking the can open and taking a very pointed slurp. “Pass me a highlighter.” 

There was something about this set-up that made Izumi feel like she was back in university. Although, instead of flipping through a pirated textbook on her laptop and frantically jotting down as many notes as possible for an exam the following morning, she was trying desperately to stop the Coven from shutting down and being destroyed. Funny how life could work out that way. 

Yuki came back with his bangs clipped back with a sparkly barrette, held in Sakuya’s hand. Both sported their pajamas as they settled down to get to work. 

“I’m sorry to be asking you guys for so much,” Izumi said apologetically. 

Sakuya held up his hands and shook his head quickly. “It’s fine, Director! I’m learning a lot of important words and stuff. Plus, it’s important. We have to protect home.” 

Yuki rolled his eyes as he hopped onto the table and lay on one of the copies of the charter. He propped himself up on his elbows and started reading. “100% Energy’s being heavy on the emotional attachment but he’s not wrong. We _do_ need to do this. Mythics can’t keep getting screwed over and if this is going to be a firm kick in the balls for Reni, then we might as well. I’m sick of the Council and I’m down for anything that makes his incumbency a horror.” 

Omi winced at the boy’s harsh words. “We—you know we work for them, right? You do understand that even if Sakyo’s the one to sign our paychecks, the money is still coming in from the Council’s treasury?” 

“Boohoo, I work for them because I don’t have a choice what with their neglect for making a system that’ll fairly distribute wealth amongst mythics,” Yuki snapped. “Being loyal to them because of that isn’t patriotism, Wolf Mom, that’d be Stockholm Syndrome." 

“Where’s Tenma?” 

“He’s doing the rounds for a bit so Masumi can go to sleep.” Sakuya laughed awkwardly. “It’s almost four in the morning, after all. Masumi usually goes to bed at like ten so he was getting woozy on his feet.” 

Crap. It _was_ almost four. 

Izumi gritted her teeth and forced her vision to focus more on the words. 

_The High Priest of Mankai Coven has full authority to re-design classes as he sees fit to accommodate the needs of the students that attend the establishment, prioritizing the importance of upholding the confidentiality of magic from the rest of the world. The High Priest of Mankai Coven withholds the power to present proposals for any and all foundational changes he finds necessary for the Coven. The expenditure index must be completely accounted for, however, when asking for an increase in funding that will be voted upon by the heads of Council._

Blah, blah, blah. More money stuff. The checks from the Council to keep the Coven running weren’t fantastic but it wasn’t going to have any of them going hungry. She’d save a note here and get back to it if they found any financial problems. 

Izumi wasn’t even sure what exactly she was looking for. She needed something, anything, that would stop the Coven from shutting down. The only thing that could do that was to find a way to get Taichi out of his contract and not spill all the secrets. 

Something. 

There had to be something. 

Itaru nudged her. He slid page seven her way, with one entire block of text highlighted and starred. 

“What do you think of this?” he murmured. 

Izumi gave the passage a quick skim. Then another, reading more carefully. 

_The Coven exists as an institute for the education of Firstborn magicians or those who lack the familial environment to further in their studies. Mankai Coven exists as an extension of the Council to be an infrastructural development in our society. Any and all humans with a proficiency in magic, be they Witches, Casters, Hunters, or Seers*, that do not have access to the study of magic available readily will be immediately deemed under the care of Mankai Coven provided that the Council is informed and continuously updated on the status of their well-being._

“What about it?” Izumi asked. 

Itaru pointed to the asterisk and then flipped to the very last page to show her the tiny footnote that looked more like someone being meticulous rather than truly thinking for the future. She read it over and started. 

That—could work. 

“Get Taichi in here,” Izumi said, slapping the papers down with newfound vigor. “We need to talk to him.

* * *

“Am I in trouble?” Taichi asked as Omi and Tsuzuru came to fetch him from his room. 

Omi’s gaze went soft. “You’re still awake?” 

“…Couldn’t sleep.” 

The werewolf sighed. “Might as well. I have some cinnamon-butternut slices baking. Would you like some when they’re done?” 

“Yes.” Yes. Please. Yes. God, Taichi was so _hungry_ , he was going to go insane. 

Tsuzuru licked the pad of his thumb and swept it over the Runes, banishing them. “C’mon, the Director wants to talk to you.” 

Director. Izumi Tachibana. Aged 24. A Person of Interest on Mayor Reni’s forms. 

Nice. She was very nice. She was pretty and she smiled and she gave warm, comforting hugs. 

Taichi hopped out of bed and was led to the living room. 

Sakuya’s eyes were red at the edges from lack of sleep but still he smiled at him. “I hope you’re alright, Taichi. I think things are going well!” 

His heart stopped. “R-Really?” 

The Director crossed her legs and rested her elbows on them, fingers steepled pensively. “We need to talk, Taichi. There’s a chance we could work something out but we need to know a few things first." 

“Y-Yeah?” 

That was a relief. If there was one thing Taichi knew how to do at this point, it was answer to questions. As long as she didn’t dig for any of the things Reni considered strictly confidential, then that wouldn’t even be a breach of the contract. 

“Would you like to join the Coven?” Director asked. 

It was like a gust of hot wind blew into his face. He opened and closed his mouth as sweat beaded on his back. “Uh…? I’m sorry, what?” 

The Director held out a packet of papers that already had too many words for Taichi to read. The writing was small, the words looked big. He shuddered. God, Taichi hated textbooks. He’d hated reading even from a young age. 

“Magicians are allowed to join the Coven,” the Director told him. “But there is _one_ small marginalia that comes with that. There’s a subsection of magic users, like blessed, or cursed, or ‘potentially discovered in the future that strays from a previously set definition, from hereon referred to as the Undefined.’” 

Lots of big words. Taichi tried to break them down and understand them. 

“Changelings were _never_ confirmed to be real,” Izumi said, standing up. “They’re a thing of myths for a reason. Rare? Maybe. Real? Maybe. It’s a total toss up. You sure fit the outline of being a changeling, with the shifter abilities, but who’s to say that’s exactly what you are? You could totally fit the bill of Undefined.” 

“I…” he hesitated. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I get it. What would joining the Coven do?” 

“Deemed under the care of Mankai Coven which means Director has a say as your guardian,” Sakuya said, reaching up from his seat on the floor to pat Taichi on his leg. “And Yuki said mythics under guardianship can’t sign contracts. Your entire agreement with Reni would be null and void.” 

Yuki shrugged. “You signed it when you were twelve, but the only way you _would_ have been able to sign a contract at that age was if you didn’t have a guardian. So… get a guardian and the contract goes moot since you’re underaged.” 

“That won’t work,” Taichi said. “I’m _not_ a magician. I’m a m-mythic, the contract wouldn’t even have been able to be formed if I wasn’t. That—I don’t fit the defintion.” 

“You’ll fit the definition if you’re willing to fight for it,” the Director said with all her teeth showing. 

The demon opened his mouth wide in a yawn. The tips of his fangs glistened and Taichi shivered, remembering just how terrible those pink eyes had been when they were snapping his bones. 

“It’s true,” Itaru said at last, lazily spreading out onto Tsuzuru’s lap. 

The Caster shoved his head off and the demon responded in return by elbowing him straight in the junk. Tsuzuru let out a pained cry and slid out of the couch in favor of rolling around on the carpet. Itaru laid down on his empty space pleasantly. 

“This is what you would call the gray area.” Itaru shrugged. “The definition is vague enough for us to argue it. You’re _not_ defined. Undefined belongs to the Coven, even if solely mythics are able to be contracted. An unexplored concept must be fought to have strict rules, noob." 

Taichi’s fingers twitched. He curled them into his palms, clenching until the fists ached. His lips pursed tight and his cheeks reddened. 

The Director cocked her head to the side. “So what do you say, Taichi? Would you like to join the Coven?" 

All of them were staring at him. 

Staring _at_ him. Him, without a single guise up. It was uncomfortable. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered at last. 

“You don’t know?” Izumi repeated incredulously. “Taichi, I know you might be a little confused but we really need you to think hard about this.” 

Taichi’s throat tightened to the point where breathing was becoming difficult. “I don’t _know."_

“It’s so stupid,” Taichi managed as his voice cracked. He wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his sleeve. “I-It’s so _stupid_. I can be anybody I want. I can be anything. And I don’t even know who I am.” 

Izumi got off of the couch to kneel in front of him. “Hey, hey. Look at me. It’s okay.” 

“No it’s _not_ ,” Taichi cried thickly. “It’s not okay. I don’t—I don’t know who I am. I hurt the Coven.” 

“You didn’t mean to,” she said and took one of his hands. “You were acting on Reni’s orders. It’s not like you woke up one day and went, ‘hey, I’m bored, I’m gonna go shut down that Coven across the city for fun.’ There’s a difference, Taichi.” 

He tried to take his hand back but she wouldn’t let him. “Is there? Is there, really? I still—I still signed the contract. I still did everything he told me to do for the past four years. I still w-worked for the Council like a dog and I couldn’t even do that job right. I ruin everything I touch.” 

“Taichi,” Izumi said quietly and ran her thumb across his knuckles. “You were twelve when you signed that contract. All you wanted was a place in magic society, you didn’t know what you were getting into.” 

“But I still did the jobs. That doesn’t f-fix everything I did, or what I was willing to do.” He spoke in short bursts of words like he refused to allow himself the right to cry while talking. “Director Tachibana, I can’t join the Coven. I just can’t.” 

Director grabbed his hands and shook them. “Yes, you can.” 

“I don’t k-know anything.” 

“You do,” she said softly. “You know what you have to know. It doesn’t matter if that’s what you’ve been told in the past but you know enough to be yourself and to make choices for yourself." 

Did he really? The Director had no idea. 

Taichi’s lips quivered as he fought to choke back a sob. “I don’t even know if this is my real face. I don’t know a thing about myself.” 

He dragged the fingers he’d known his whole life down the temples, the cheeks, the jaw he called his own. Once more. Every time he touched his face, it felt more and more foreign. 

“I don’t know who I am,” Taichi whispered. His knees gave out and he kneeled on the floor. The Director pulled him into her arms, giving the changeling a hug he so desperately needed. 

Taichi. 

Was that his real name? 

Who was he? 

_What_

was he? 

_Taichi finished the note and read it over once more._

_Dear mom and dad,_

_I’m sorry for replacing yuor son. Please tell Mirai and Masato that I will miss them. I’ll go to the elves and try to find yuor son. I wrote your home address down so I can tell him where to come back. Thank yuo for taking care of me_

_Love,_

_Changeling_

_Good._

_That would do._

_He slipped the note onto his desk. His mother would find it the next day, for sure. Taichi grabbed his backpack and crept down the hall towards the front door._

_“Big brother?”_

_Ah._

_Taichi turned around to see Mirai standing there, rubbing her eye as her favorite stuffed bear dragged on the floor._

_“Hey, Mi,” he said softly as he went to his knees in front of her. “It’s late. You should be asleep.”_

_“Where are you going?” she asked. “Why are you wearing daddy’s clothes? You look silly, big brother, they don’t fit you."_

_Taichi rubbed her head. “I’m gonna go away for a bit. I have to go find someone.”_

_Mirai whined and smacked his shoulder. “Noooo. I’m gonna miss you. Play with me tomorrow.”_

_“Sorry, Mi.”_

_Her face screwed up and went red like she was going to throw a tantrum. Taichi glanced with alarm at his parents’ door. It wouldn’t do if they woke up. If they woke up, mama would be sad again._

_“Mi,” he whispered. He held out his pinky. “You have to be a good girl. I’m going to make sure your big brother comes back home.”_

_“P-Promise? Soon?” Mirai asked, linking their small fingers together. “How soon?”_

_“Very soon. I’m going to work super, duper hard. Mama’s gonna be happy again.” Taichi leaned forward and gave her a tight hug. “Okay. I have to go now. Your big brother will be back home, I’ll make sure he is.”_

_Mirai nodded and went off back to her room, swaying on her chubby toddler legs with each step. “M’okay.”_

_Taichi watched his little sister walk away and curled his fingers into a tight fist. She would be okay. Her real big brother would come home soon and she would be fine. And… And when Taichi met the real Taichi Nanao, he’d tell him all he knew about her. Mirai likes sweets and pretty pink, frilly things. Masato hates vegetables but he hates nagging more, so he’ll eat them. If you make Masato laugh during dinner, he’ll be more obedient about eating his peas._

_And maybe the real Taichi Nanao would be able to make them happier than he ever could._

_Taichi opened the front door as quietly as he could and slipped out. The cold autumn night air blew into his face, already raising little shivers from his bones. Maybe fall had been a bad time for him to have decided to run away but there was no going back now._

_The chill retreated for just a moment as he melted into his schoolteacher._

_Sensei was a little taller than his father, which meant the clothes were too tight, but he was the only adult man Taichi could have copied on such short notice. It would have to do. Walking around at ten years old during the nighttime was dangerous._

_Taichi ran into the night and looked back at the apartment only four times. One for each family member he was leaving behind._

Izumi didn’t know what to say. 

She didn’t have to say anything. 

Someone behind her let out a frustrated, weary sigh. Yuki shoved her to the side, waving his wrist and growing until he towered over the boy on the floor. 

“Wolf Mom, give me a knife.” 

Omi hesitated. 

Yuki shot him a look that would have made mountains crumble. “ _Now_ , mongrel. Don’t make me repeat myself, my time is valuable and I’ve had almost no beauty sleep this week." 

He took out a small fruit knife from the cupboard and handed it to Yuki. 

“Changeling,” Yuki spat at next. “Who am I?” 

Taichi looked up at him but didn’t speak. 

Yuki stomped his foot once, face severe and not to be questioned. “Answer me, idiot. Who am I?” 

“Yuki Rurikawa,” Taichi said immediately. “Brownie. New addition to the Coven.” 

“I’m Yuki Rurikawa." 

Taichi kept staring at him. 

Yuki unclipped the shiny barrette in his hair. The longer strands fell in front of his face which he blew away, annoyed. Yuki raked his fingers through his tresses and grabbed a large fistful, bringing the knife up next. Sakuya covered his mouth with his hands. In front of everybody, Yuki sheared off each lock he had in his grip without even a moment taken to contemplate what he was doing. 

The Coven could only watch in amazed, or horrified, silence as he opened his fist and the clover green wisps fell to the floor like grass clippings. 

Yuki dropped the blade next and it clattered, ringing high and clear before coming to a rest. 

Taichi’s eyes could not have gone wider. 

“Now,” Yuki said. He ruffled his roughly shorn locks that now barely went past his ears. The jagged ends cried in sorrow of their lost length. “I look different, don’t I?” 

It was like Taichi had no space left in his lungs to breathe. 

Yuki crossed his arms and glared like he was ready to snap the neck of anything that dared to argue with him. “But I’m still Yuki Rurikawa. My hair, my face, none of that makes my name. _I_ make my name and _I_ decide what Yuki Rurikawa means. Now tell me. Who are _you?_ ” 

The changeling’s mouth dropped open and then clamped shut. 

Yuki’s gaze went even colder. 

“I _said_ ,” he barked. “Who the hell are you?” 

“Taichi Nanao.” 

Yuki shrugged, face tight with scorn. “And is a name all you are? Are you trying to become that name? Or are you the person who gives it some actual meaning?” 

Taichi wiped his eyes and averted his gaze. 

“SAY IT.” 

He flinched like he’d been slapped. “I-I’m the person who makes the name.” 

“You better.” Yuki touched his hair again and his frown deepened somehow. “Stand up.” 

Taichi stood. 

“I’ve been growing my hair. I wanted it to reach a little past my shoulder blades. Because of you, it’s going to take a little longer now. What a bother." 

“I’m sorry,” he stammered softly. 

Yuki held out a hand. “Prove it. Take responsibility and just join the damn Coven. Stop being such a repugnant brat about it.” 

Tsuzuru let out a snort at the irony of Yuki calling someone a brat. Izumi jabbed him in the ribs lightly to silence him. 

It was like Taichi couldn’t tear his eyes away from the hand held out to him. He reached forward, hesitating right before he made contact. Yuki rolled his eyes and reached the rest of the way, grabbing Taichi’s fingers in his palm and giving it a firm shake. 

“Welcome to Mankai Coven, you annoying packing peanut,” Yuki said. And then he grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooooOOOOOOOOOOO, anyways next chapter could be titled New High Priestess of a Coven Fights to Win Custody of a Red Boy in Magic Court idk 
> 
> also homare :') love that guy


	32. This Can Be Where You Find What You Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is late due to technical difficulties this week, sob.... long story short, yay, new computer!

At 3 in the afternoon of the next day, Tasuku Takato was back at Mankai Coven with Haruto Asuka, Mayor Reni's private secretary and second in command, by his side. 

“Please let me do all the talking this time,” Tasuku said flatly as he knocked on the door. 

Haruto clicked his tongue. “Whatever.” 

“You remember the last time we were at the Sumeragi estate, don’t you? I’d rather not have an insulted magician trying to fry us, thank you very much.” 

Haruto scowled and pointed a sparking finger at Tasuku’s face. “You’re on thin ice, asshole.” 

“Let’s stay professional.” 

Izumi Tachibana opened the door holding a sizable bowl of what looked to be chili. 

“Ah!” she said warmly. “Officer Cockatoo and… Harold, right?” 

Haruto’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” 

“Sorry, sorry. Naruto?” 

“Haruto!” he blustered. 

Tasuku snorted but tried to hide it as a cough that no one believed for even a moment. “Miss Tachibana. It’s quite a shame I had to come back so quickly.” 

She set the bowl of chili aside and held her wrists out. “Arrest again?” 

“Haha.” Tasuku didn’t actually laugh. “No. I think you know why I’m here.” 

Izumi opened the door wider. “That I do. Come in. Can I get you coffee? Tea?" 

The two came in, slipping off their shoes and placing them close by the door. 

“No, thank you.” 

“I’ll take a coffee,” Tasuku said. He’d need it. He could already tell by the small army of young men sitting in the living room. 

Every registered student and teacher sat, with Taichi Nanao placed at the furthermost corner of the room like they were acting as a human wall of defense. Izumi sat in the armchair and gestured to the two empty kitchen tables brought in, obviously meant for them. 

“Oh my God,” Haruto muttered. “I thought you said this was going to be an easy retrieval like the last few times.” 

Obviously, Mayor Reni had lied to them. Tasuku let out a weary sigh and sat down. 

“So!” Izumi began with a bright smile. She clapped her hands. “Let me get this clear. You sent in someone without warning to pose as me within my Coven. Let’s dig into that and see where we end up, shall we?” 

Haruto held up a hand immediately. “I’ll stop you there, Miss Tachibana.” 

“Call me Director!” 

“…Director Tachibana.” 

She beamed. Tasuku didn’t feel at ease seeing such an expression. Especially since Masumi Usui, the Firstborn Hunter, was sitting right there, tossing a golden orb to himself like he was ready to commit a felony with it if they said one thing wrong. 

“Is that a doorknob?” Tasuku asked quietly, noticing that it wasn’t simply a golden orb. 

Masumi scowled harder. “What if it is?” 

“A doorknob was reported missing from Mayor Reni’s office on the night of the break in.” 

Masumi Usui looked away. “I collect them. Jerk.” 

“Yeah,” Yuki Rurikawa snapped. “He _collects_ them, Tasuku. What, you’re going to start bullying kids now for their niche and specific interests that they care to indulge in on the side? It’s not hurting anybody. The guy likes to collect doorknobs, why are you being so cruel about it?” 

Citron covered his mouth and looked away, eyes tearing up. “Ah. The conniption of the government. I knew it to be true, and yet…” 

“Corruption,” Izumi corrected. 

Tasuku was just going to stop speaking on the matter now. 

“Director Tachibana,” Haruto started again. “The changeling moved _without orders_ from Mayor Reni. That’s a deep, terrible infraction. I agree with you, such an action shouldn’t have been taken. That’s why the Council is going to make sure the changeling is punished thoroughly but we’re going to need him to come back with us.” 

“Liars!” Tenma yelled, getting to his feet. “Mayor Reni _sent_ him here, we know it’s the truth!” 

Haruto sighed gustily. “Heir Sumeragi. A brat as always, I see.” 

“Shut it, pinky! Mom sends an invitation for you to go fuck yourself, by the way!" Tenma glanced at the Director. "T-That was a direct quote, by the way. Not my own words."

Haruto pursed his lips together and looked like he was trying very hard not to say something that he would regret. He turned back to Izumi. 

“We need the changeling to come back with us and that’s, unfortunately, not a matter that we can discuss in depth.” He reached into his coat and removed a folded note done on the Council’s fancy thick paper. “His arrest warrant is here clear as day. Please relinquish him to us.” 

Izumi accepted the warrant and looked at it but clearly did not bother to read a word. 

“Relinquish,” she repeated. “It’s funny, that you used that word. It’s like… hand over, right? To cease ownership of and whatever? Really appropriate.” 

She crumpled the warrant into a ball and tossed it over her shoulder. 

“Kamekichi,” Izumi called. “Could you bring the ledger over to us?” 

“ _Do you see me as nothing but a parcel delivery service with wings, woman?!_ ” 

Nevertheless, the bird swooped in with the thick, leather-bound registry in his talons, much too big for a normal bird to carry but Kamekichi always had a few surprises on his wings. Izumi grabbed it as it was dropped over her head and began to flip through the pages before arriving to the most recent entry. 

“As of about five in the morning today, Taichi Nanao is officially a member of Mankai Coven,” Izumi said smoothly. 

Tasuku’s brow furrowed. “Mankai Coven can’t accept mythics.” 

Yuki cleared his throat with no subtlety. 

“…Mankai Coven _cannot_ accept mythics as students who exist in contracts that are already in agreement,” he amended. 

Izumi clapped her hands again. “Actually! Turns out we can! Since changelings weren’t ever recorded as existing or not for sure before Taichi, we are _absolutely_ allowed to claim him as our own under the category of Undefined. According to the charter that Mayor Reni’s father established with the Founders. Law works in the funniest ways, doesn’t it, Officer?” 

Tasuku clamped his lips shut. 

He and Haruto exchanged looks. 

Haruto stood first, holding out his palms. “This seems like a matter you and the Mayor will have to discuss in depth, Director Tachibana. I don’t think my colleague or I will be able to answer the specifics. Would you mind coming to the Main Hall with us?” 

“I’d love to!” She stood up and snapped her fingers. “Citron, Tsuzuru, Taichi. You’re coming with me.” 

Tsuzuru had stayed oddly quiet during the entire encounter, eyes flicking back and forth between the Director and the Council dogs with each passing word. He stood, continuing his silence, along with the other two. 

As Taichi passed by the couch to get closer, Tenma’s hand reached up to grab him by the wrist. 

“Nanao,” he said sharply. 

Taichi spared a glance at him, wrenching his wrist away like the physical contact scared him. 

Tenma didn’t seem to notice the action in his muted rage. “You are _not_ going to give in. Not to them. _Not to them_. Understand? You can buckle over for the Director, or for anybody else. _Not_ to the Council.” 

Yuki punched him in the ribs so hard he curled over with a gag. 

“Shut up, Sumeragi,” he spat. “You’re not going to be cool no matter what.” 

Izumi rubbed her forehead. “Sakuya, think you can hold down the fort and make sure they don’t kill each other while I’m gone?” 

“Of course, Director!” the Witchling said with a salute. 

Haruto waved a finger and a warm, cozy brown arch of light the color of sandalwood appeared until it formed a large circle. 

“Step through here to arrive at the Main Hall please,” he said impatiently, standing aside. 

Izumi held her head high and walked within the belly of the beast.

* * *

Reni’s eyenbrows rose when the party of six entered through the hastily drawn circle. 

“I seem to have recalled for the retrieval of only _one_ being, Haruto,” he remarked, putting his pen down. 

Izumi glanced around. From the bookshelves and the ornate-to-the-point-it-was-ugly desk the mayor sat at, she’d guess this was the office on the blueprint. It was a little strange to consider that the last time she’d seen Reni face to face, the _only_ time she had, was at the ball last month. What with all of the ways the man seemed to be working behind the scenes to make her job as annoying as possible. 

“Director Tachibana seemed to raise a…” Haruto hesitated, like he was searching for the right word. “Concern with your orders, Mayor. I came to the conclusion that the best course of action would be to refer her to you directly.” 

“I see.” He glanced at Tsuzuru who refused to meet his eyes, and then Citron. “That will be all. Tasuku, Haruto, please see yourselves out.” 

“Are you quite sure, Mayor?” Tasuku asked. 

Reni smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I doubt I’m in danger. It is just the Coven, after all.” 

Izumi gritted her teeth but didn’t raise a fuss. If they were smack dab in the Main Hall, they wouldn’t be able to touch a hair on his head and he knew it. Tasuku and Haruto both bowed once and took their leave. 

Reni curled his fingers into a fist and three chairs rose from the carpeting. 

“Please take a seat,” he said warmly. “It seems we have a lot to talk about.” 

_I’m going to punch you in the face. I’m going to punch you in the face. I’m going to punch you in the face_. 

Citron put a warning hand on her elbow. 

_I’m not going to punch him in the face_. 

The Seer's expression was easy to read even if he was still smiling. _Sit down, Director. Let us not prod the sleeping bear_. 

“Nanao, come stand beside me,” Reni ordered. 

Taichi started towards him until Izumi held an arm out and stopped him. 

“He’s fine where he is, thank you,” she said, finally sitting down. “A fourth chair for him would be nice, Mayor Reni.” 

The Mayor pursed his lips but did as she requested. Taichi trained his eyes on the carpet like he didn’t know where else to look. The boy had gone paler than milk. 

Izumi shut her eyes and took a moment to calm herself. 

“Mayor Reni,” she began. “How many different layers of denial and false pretenses are we going to be working with here?” 

“Pardon?” 

Izumi rolled her eyes. “I’m just preparing myself. We know you sent Taichi to the Coven, no matter how firmly you’re going to deny doing such a thing in front of others. You have a sense of maybe something the Coven might have done in retaliation or as preventative measures.” 

_No confirmations of any kind_ , Tsuzuru had told her firmly. _Even if it’s a ‘gotcha’ kinda of moment. You can’t explicitly confirm a single thing we did behind his back that could get the Coven in trouble, Director_.

_Okay, but what if--_

_DIRECTOR, AS THE HOLY LORD AS MY WITNESS, IF YOU DON'T DO AS WHAT I SAY RIGHT NOW, I'M GOING TO ACTUALLY LOSE MY MIND._

Mayor Reni was quiet, like he was mulling her words over in his mind.

“I suppose some pretenses must stay in place,” he said at last, smile sliding right back onto his face. Man, did Izumi hate that smile. “It’s no fun otherwise, is it, Miss Tachibana?” 

“No. It probably isn’t.” 

He waved a hand, gesturing airily. “So let us say, as we extrapolate from the wicked accusation you are leveling upon my head. Let us say that Nanao didn’t commit this egregious action, something he is dearly in need of punishing for, completely of his own accord. What would you do?” 

“In this hypothetical scenario?” Izumi asked. 

“Hypothetical, clearly.” 

Izumi held out the Coven’s ledger. “I’d make him join the Coven and become his legal guardian until he turns of age. Turning any and all contracts he might have moot. Actually, that's not hypothetical at all, since I actually did it.” 

Reni accepted it and flipped through until his eyes rested on Taichi’s messy, messy handwriting next to the day’s date. His face didn’t change. 

“I see,” he remarked, returning it. “And under what authority? As we agreed to on writing in the interesting case of Yuki Rurikawa, he was a brownie in desperation of learning magic to protect himself after a truly horrific event. It seemed eccentric on your part but no harm meant. This, however, would be in direct breach of someone who is under Council employment. _Not_ from Sakyo Furuichi’s division." 

Izumi cocked her head to the side. “Council employment, Mayor? Or your employment?” 

“Miss Tachibana. I _am_ the Council.” 

Bold words with an autocratic undertone that would have raised concerns anywhere else. But everyone within that office knew he was speaking the truth. 

“I want Taichi Nanao in the Coven,” she said. 

“I want Nanao returned to the Council and I want every truth he has reported before he is dismissed,” Reni said. “You can allow him to join afterwards, I suppose, but I doubt there will be a Coven for you to offer him soon enough.” 

Izumi’s upper lip curled in disgust. “And I don’t want that.” 

“And I, personally, do not care.” 

There was a creak of wood to her side. Izumi glanced at Tsuzuru to see that his hand was gripping the armrest so tightly, the knuckles were going as white as the bone underneath his skin. 

“Let’s level, Reni,” she said, dropping the Mayor title because she couldn’t give a damn anymore. “You want the Coven gone. I don’t want it to be. The difference here is that I’m willing to put anything on the line. What are _you_ willing to give up to get what you want?” 

Reni opened his palms. “I don't find you fit to be teaching any magician and I'd much rather have your students under my jurisdiction. Therefore, whatever resources I have available to meet my goal, I will be using to my advantage. They will all be a means to an end.” 

Enough was enough. 

Izumi jerked her chin to the door. “All of you. Out. Wait in the hall.” 

Tsuzuru sucked in a breath like he was ready to protest. 

“NOW!” 

He clamped his lips shut. He stood and walked out. Taichi followed him like he was all but too desperate to leave the uncomfortable environment. Citron brought up the end, but not before he put a hand on Izumi’s shoulder and leaned in. 

“Do not punch him in the face, Director,” he hissed. 

“I’m not going to!” 

Citron gave her a look. 

“Okay, I will try very, very hard not to!” 

That seemed to be enough for him. All three of them left, closing the door behind them. 

Izumi drew her chair closer until she could rest her elbows on the desk and she and Reni were, more or less, two people having a conversation without a title between them to spare. 

“Reni,” Izumi said firmly, laying both her palms down flat. “I’m going to make this very clear.” 

“Feel free to enthrall me with whatever unimportant speech you have planned, Miss Tachibana,” he said, face void of even a modicum of respect. 

“The Coven, as of right now, is not just a place for teaching magic.” 

He sneered at her. “Confessing all your wrongdoings beneath the surface so brazenly without witnesses? I’m well aware of that fact. The chimera incident yesterday, the missing contract. All too coincidental, isn’t it?" 

_Don’t punch him in the face. Don’t punch him in the face. Don’t punch him in the face._ “ _No_ , you clown. Half of the boys living within the dorms of that building need a family and the Coven is the only place where they can find it. It stopped being about magic the second people considered the Coven a home.” 

Izumi shuddered as she thought about Sakuya’s aunt. How hard Sakuya tried to smile every day.

As she thought about Daisuke Sakisaka tearing up on the couch because he thought Muku would finally have a reason to stop crying himself to sleep in confusion. 

Misumi, nothing but skin and bone and dirty hair, eating a warm meal for what must the been the first time in days. Weeks? She didn’t want to ponder it further. 

And even ignoring all of the worst cases… 

Masumi joined in on games now. He was shoved into interaction he needed and he didn’t have those headphones on his ears every hour of the day. Yuki came into the Coven angry and snappish and while he never lost that fire in him, Izumi doubted he ever would, he was steadily making the friends he’d sought after. Banri— 

Banri was Banri. 

But at least Banri listened to what she said every now and then. And according to him, this was the longest time he’d gone without having a hearing with his parole officer. _At least_ the boy was getting into magic shenanigans and not setting sheds on fire. 

It wasn’t perfect. They were all works in progress. They all had ways to grow from where they were. 

Izumi would rather lose her teeth than her right to be there every step of the way and watch them bloom. 

“That’s very sweet, Director,” Reni said simply. “I do not care.” 

“You will. When I said I’m willing to put everything on the line for the Coven, I meant it.” She pressed her lips together. “I will say this once, _Mayor_. Mostly because if the other teachers hear me say it, they’re going to throw a tantrum. If I hear one more word about you trying to pull something like this again, I’m not going to start spitting blood to run around and fix the mess like I did this time. Consider yourself lucky that Taichi was a young boy who we wanted to help." 

“Miss Tachibana, are you perhaps threatening me?” Mayor Reni asked. 

Izumi stood up and looked down at the Witch. Secondborn. Probably not a drop of magic-less blood in him. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that if Reni really, really wanted to, he could kill her in this office right now and bury the investigation under a mountain of legislation and red-tape. After all, that first warning from him was right. 

Mayor Reni was still a prominent figure in society. 

She was relatively new to the city and a Fourthborn that major Bloodlines wouldn’t care about losing. 

Izumi didn’t care. 

“That wasn’t a threat. This is.” She set her jaw. “Mayor Reni, if you try to shut down the Coven one more time in this scummy, snake way, I’m willing to upend the entire Council if I have to. You do _not_ put a boy in harm’s way. You _do not_ force a child to do your dirty work. That’s something I’m not going to excuse. Taichi. Is. A. Boy." 

He went quiet. The Mayor steepled his fingers. “Hm. That is a very brazen statement to make, Miss Tachibana. Are you perhaps heralding a revolution directly to my face?” 

“I am _promising_ a revolution if you put a child in harm’s way again. I am promising the use of every single force and connection the Coven has in its arsenal.” She held up two fingers. “Every Bloodline we can coerce and every drop of magic in our veins. You take the home away from my magicians and I will make you pay for it." 

Reni leaned back and looked thoroughly amused. 

“You’d send your magicians off to death rather than just give up on your teaching position?” he asked. “My. I never took you for the selfish type.” 

“The world can be a cold place for magicians and mythics. You certainly haven’t done a good job of changing that, have you? I don’t trust you to care for them for even a second.” 

Reni turned in his chair towards his window. “You truly are your father’s daughter.” 

“…Excuse me?” 

The Mayor waved a hand. “Perhaps you overestimated how invested I am. I will ignore the calls of war from a petulant child. If you care so deeply for a changeling, take him. Although, we will need to lock his confidential memories. For safety, you can be sure.” 

Izumi frowned. “I want oversight.” 

“Declined.” 

“He has officially become my charge the second he signed the ledger. _I want oversight_.” 

Reni let out a weary sigh. “You do realize letting _you_ have access to those memories would make removing those memories meaningless?” 

Izumi clicked her tongue. “I don’t want you taking more than you deserve. What’s to say you’re not going to wipe the poor boy of everything?" 

“My, my. I’m insulted by how little faith you seem to have in me. The Casters who work in the confidentiality insurance department will be able to confirm that they’ll only be blocking what is imperative for the preservation of our fine government. Have Mister Minagi there if you so desire it.” Reni turned back around to face her. “Ah. More importantly. Sakuya Sakuma.” 

Izumi felt her spine lock. 

“What about him?” she snapped. 

“His quest is coming up quite soon, isn’t it?” Reni waved a hand and brought his calendar forward. “The time is ticking, Director. Should he fail, the Coven is closed no matter how harshly you might protest. We will shut the Coven down no matter how many bullets it may take to shatter your doors.” 

“He’ll do just fine, thanks.” 

“Let us see if your words hold any truth.” Reni stood up and stretched out a gloved hand. “Such a delight to make your acquaintance again.” 

She shook it and fought the urge to spit at him. “Same here.”

* * *

Citron hugged her when she came back out. “You didn’t punch him in the face! I’m very proud of you, Director.” 

Tsuzuru shoved him aside to shake her. “How badly did you screw us over. HOW BADLY.” 

“It worked out!” 

“IT WORKED OUT?” 

“it worked out!” 

Tsuzuru crumpled to his knees and emitted a noise that was either a sob of relief or a dry heave. “Oh my Loooooooord, it worked out…” 

Taichi hesitated. “It…?” 

Izumi opened her arms for him. “WELCOME TO THE COVEN, KIDDO!” 

He didn’t move closer. “I’m… really?” 

“Well, Reni said a little memory modification might have to take place,” she said, waving her hand. “But that’s alright.” 

“B-But—!” Taichi grimaced. “But, but if they take my memories, I can’t—I can’t help you! I can’t tell you what Reni did, there’s nothing I can do then!” 

Izumi blinked. She lowered her arms. 

“Taichi,” she began. “Did… you think we wanted you in the Coven because we wanted information on the Council?” 

“I—!” 

Izumi frowned. “Kiddo, we wanted you in the Coven because you’re a boy who wants to learn about magic. That’s that. What other reason do we need?” 

“Stop calling me that!” Taichi begged, clapping his palms over his ears. “You can’t call me that!” 

“Call you _what?_ ” 

“KIDDO!” he snapped. “I’m not! I’m not a part of the Coven!” 

Izumi huffed. “Well, I’d sure hope you are because I just threatened Reni to his face and if you don’t end up joining after all of this, I’m going to be humiliated.” 

“YOU _WHAT?_ ” Tsuzuru bellowed at the top of his lungs, reaching with outstretched hands for her throat like he was going to strangle her. “DIRECTOR!” 

“Oh, shove it, you’ve said worse.” 

“IN PRIVATE! WHEN WE WERE IN PRIVATE! NOT TO HIS UGLY FACE!” 

“To my pardon?” Reni asked politely, exiting next. 

Tsuzuru choked. 

“Mister Minagi. A pleasure.” He cast a scornful look in Taichi’s direction. “Your employment is thus terminated, Nanao. Consider yourself completely cut off from the Council from hereon. Your service to the government is thanked. Your belongings will be mailed to the Coven." 

Taichi winced and stretched a hand out. “M-Mayor—” 

“That’ll be enough.” He gestured. “The confidentiality department is down the hall. Haruto will be happy to assist you on your way back to the Coven.” 

“Let’s go get you memory wiped, then, kiddo,” Izumi said, not entertaining Taichi’s spluttered refusal at the term. She pushed him down the hall, ready to get out of the Main Hall and preferably never have to come back. 

Taichi stopped. 

He turned and grabbed her wrist, eyes flicking back and forth to make sure Reni wouldn’t hear them, or that there weren’t any eavesdroppers. 

“Maeko,” he hissed desperately. “Maeko Ikaruga. That’s Hakkaku’s daughter.” 

Izumi’s eyes widened. 

“T-The family is situated in Osaka from what I know. It’s all I can give you right now. I’m sorry.” 

She swallowed and ruffled his hair. “And that’s more than I could ever ask from you, Taichi. Come on. We have to get back home."

* * *

When they stepped through the portal back to the Coven, they were swarmed. 

“It worked?” Sakuya asked. “He’s in?” 

“He’s in!” Izumi said. 

Sakuya pumped his fist once. “Yes! _Yes!_ " 

Citron came through holding the changeling in his arms. Taichi let out a groan and clutched at his head. 

Yuki, hair cleaned and trimmed to be a more presentable pixie cut, frowned. “What’s wrong with him?” 

“He’s a little loopy from a memory wipe,” Izumi reassured him. “Taichi’s going to be just fine.” 

Omi took the changeling from Citron’s arms. “Should I go put him in bed to recover?” 

“Thanks, Omi, you’re an angel.” 

Tsuzuru came in next, somehow even more of a wreck than Taichi. 

“What’s wrong with that one?” Yuki asked, face growing more disgusted. “He looks gross.” 

Tsuzuru collapsed onto the carpet and moaned. 

“I called him ugly to his face,” he gasped. “Oh my God, they’re going to raise the taxes on the labs. My dad’s going to kill me! Or… Or praise me and make me the next head, I don’t know! I don’t know which would be worse!” 

Izumi squinted. “I’m not sure. I think he’ll be okay. But! More importantly—how did you guys all do on the plan?” 

Tenma flashed his credit card. “I made all the calls.” 

“Misumi and Itaru on their way back from the hideout?” 

“I’ll go get them!” Sakuya said, already rushing to the entryway. “Muku’s house is by Saint Flora’s, right?” 

Everything was in motion then.

* * *

“Taaaaaiiiiiiiiichiiiiiiiiii…” 

The changeling shot up with a strangled yelp. Monster? Ghost? Was something going to kill him? 

No. 

It was just the Witch. 

Misumi… 

Taichi frowned deeply and rubbed his forehead. Gone. He couldn’t remember his last name at all. The harder he tried to recall it, the worse his migraine got. Man, he hated memory blocks so much. 

“Are you awake?” Misumi asked, leaning too close for comfort. 

He jerked away. “Uh. Yeah. Now I am. How long was I asleep for?” 

“Just three hours!” 

It felt like he’d been asleep for just ten minutes. “So… What’s the problem?” 

Misumi’s smile dropped. “Huge problem. You need to come to the living room right now.” 

A huge problem? Already?! He threw the sheets off and went racing after the Witch. 

Something popped. 

He blinked as colored paper and streamers rained down on him. 

“WELCOME TO THE COVEN!” everyone shouted at varying degrees of excitement. 

Yuki’s phone was on the countertop, with Muku clapping his hands on the screen through FaceTime. 

“ _S-Sorry I can’t be there in person!_ ” he said apologetically. “ _But yeah! Welcome!_ ” 

Taichi opened and closed his mouth. He looked around. They were all wearing silly paper cone hats like this was some birthday or something. Even the demon had it on between his large, curling horns. He looked annoyed for having been forced out of his room but he was still there. 

“Don’t question it,” Tenma said sourly. “Sakuya made us.” 

Blessed was there too, the only person without a hat. Probably the only person Director couldn’t force into one. He waved lazily. 

“Sah, man,” he said. “Welcome or whatever. I’m Banri. Sorry I broke your face that one time, can’t promise I won’t do it again though.” 

The Director smacked him on the back of his head. “Watch it.” 

“Christ.” 

Omi came from the kitchen with a striped party horn in-between his lips. He blew it once, giving a cheery _toot_. 

“Congratulations, Taichi,” he said from the corner of his mouth. “That’s three from the Council in the Coven now. Raising a small army indeed, Director.” 

She fanned herself. “I mean, new city. What can I do _besides_ uproot the local government, am I right?” 

They all laughed like it was some joke. 

Omi put down the massive tray he held. A mountain of pork tossed with a few vegetables and an even bigger mountain of white rice. 

“You must be hungry, right?” he said chuckling. “Dig in.” 

Taichi didn’t know what to say. 

“We have more on the way,” Tenma added as he joined the others around the table to begin chowing down. “We’re not sure exactly how much you can fit so we just ordered whatever.” 

“Any leftovers I’m taking back in a doggy bag to Sunday brunch with my family so try to leave a little,” Tsuzuru remarked. 

Taichi kept standing there, silent and wide eyed. 

Misumi laughed loudly and pushed him forward. “Eat! It’s a party, Taichi!” 

A party? 

For… him? 

Taichi stayed quiet as he was forced to sit down beside them all. Omi gave him a large helping and the chatter started up again. 

Taichi… 

Started eating.

* * *

“Hey.” 

Taichi started and looked over his shoulder. “Ah. Sakuya.” 

Sakuya smiled gently and took a seat beside him on the tiles. “They’re looking for you.” 

“How’d you know I was here?” 

“I took a guess.” He stretched out his legs comfortably and it was obvious in that moment that this was not Sakuya’s first time on the rooftop. “I came up here all the time when I first came to the Coven. Haven’t in a while though." 

“When you first came to the Coven. Late winter, right?” 

“Yeah. Before the Director was here. It got cold but it was nice." 

Sakuya reached into his hoodie’s pocket and took out a can of coke, handing it over. Taichi turned it around in his hand. The metal was still cold, but not so frigid his fingers hurt. That was when it was the best to drink. He cracked the top open and sipped. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly. 

“No problem!” 

They continued sitting side by side. 

“Do you wanna talk?” Sakuya asked. 

Taichi turned his face away. “About what?” 

“Whatever’s bothering you. You look upset.” Sakuya scooched a little closer. “Whenever I came up here, it was usually because I needed to be alone with my thoughts. A lot of the time, I couldn’t help but think how nice it’d be if I had someone there to listen to me.” 

Something angry and bitter stirred in Taichi’s chest. 

Everyone would be willing to listen to Sakuya. Any single person in the Coven below them would drop whatever they had in their hands if it meant hearing the boy out with whatever was plaguing his mind. He didn’t get it. He _couldn’t_ get it. 

“I was the person who told Reni about the break in,” Taichi said suddenly. 

Sakuya frowned. “We figured. How did you find out though? Who told you?” 

“You did.” 

“I… did?” 

_The day before he started high school for the first time._

_Reni didn’t seem happy with Taichi dyeing his hair._

_“Your entire purpose is to remain inconspicuous as possible outside of your duties, Nanao,” he said sharply. “What is the purpose of this vain alteration?”_

_Taichi’d done it because…_

_Taichi didn’t know, actually._

_Maybe he wanted people to look at him more when he was himself. Maybe he wanted to feel like he had control over his appearance like a normal person, instead of something that could become anyone and anything because of being a changeling. Maybe he just liked the color._

_He didn’t know._

_“I’m sorry, Mayor,” he’d said quietly. “Do you want me to dye it back?”_

_Reni had made a strange face. Turned and walked away, walking cane clicking on the linoleum of Taichi’s small room. “It hardly matters. Work harder to fulfill your duties, Nanao.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_In his first day of classes, in a new school where almost no one knew anybody, somewhere Taichi might have made a friend for the first time—_

_No one looked at him._

_He wondered why as he stared at his lunchbox, trying to ignore the uncomfortable way his heart was tightening. It was stupid. Dyed hair wasn’t going to make him a king or a celebrity. But shouldn’t someone have done that thing they always do in manga and dramas? Come up to him and said, “Hey, do you wanna have lunch with us?”_

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

_Maybe there was just something different. Maybe some people just had a glowing light of actual popularity and likability within them that made people flock like moths. He certainly didn’t have it._

_“Shut up, Sumeragi!”_

_He glanced at the gaggle of boys in the corner, sitting around a boy with a shocking head of orange hair like a sunset. The boy himself looked a little confused and bemused as to why everyone was laughing at what he’d said._

_That must be nice._

_Tenma Sumeragi was a lighthouse in a dark sea that all the boats turned to. Heir to a massive fortune, the doted and praised son of a powerful Bloodline. But they didn’t even know he was a Hunter, none of the boys in this dumping-ground school_ knew _. But they all still adored him because he was light._

_Tenma Sumeragi was light._

_Changeling was…_

_Taichi spooned rice into his mouth and thought._

_He was just a bed of seaweed then that everyone ignored._

_Jealous._

_Desperate._

_Lonely._

_All of the above?_

_Taichi didn’t know._

_“Hey, did you drop this?” he asked, voice cracking._

_Tenma glanced at him, at the eraser Taichi held out in his palm._

_“Oh. Uh. I guess.” He accepted it. “Thanks.”_

_Taichi made sure their hands touched and shivered. Reni would have his head if he found out but Taichi couldn’t bring himself to care._

_It quickly turned into a bad habit, but one of the only ways that Taichi could tell himself would make him feel better._

_Walk around with Tenma Sumeragi’s face. Just—half an hour a week. Maybe even less. Walk around taller, more muscular, with hair that had sheen Taichi had sacrificed in his own by dyeing it so often._

_People looked at Tenma when he walked around. Whether Tenma knew this or not, Taichi didn’t know, but_ he _did at least._

_It was nice to be looked at when all he was doing was walking through the street._

_Wearing Tenma Sumeragi’s face was the only time Taichi felt like he was real._

_The bad habit came up again. A whole year. Tenma wasn’t even in his class anymore but it didn’t matter._

_Taichi walked through Veludo Way. Not making eye contact with anyone despite knowing eyes were on him. Liking the height, the confidence, the Bloodline’s power that backed each step he took even if it wasn’t his own._

_“Ah! Tenma!”_

_He flinched._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. No one around here should know who he was, it was Veludo Way. So far from the Sumeragi Estate, farther still from Ouka High._

_Taichi turned and—_

_If Tenma Sumeragi was a lighthouse. If Tenma Sumeragi was a sunset._

_Then the sunrise was rushing towards him._

_Sakuya Sakuma grinned at him, panting slightly from his run. Sakuya smiled, a big, happy upturn of his lips that showed all his teeth. “Hey! I don’t see you on my way back from school often. Do you wanna walk back together?”_

_Taichi choked down the urge to shudder. “Nah. I’m gonna walk around a bit on my own.”_

_“That’s alright! Let’s walk together a bit. We can talk about…” Sakuya leaned very close, putting a hand to the side of his mouth to whisper. “The thing.”_

_The thing?_

_They walked to the river that cut through the city, surrounded on either side by grassy hills. Sakuya sat down and lay back._

_“I really love this spot on the walk back,” he said happily. “Are you nervous about breaking into the Main Hall?”_

_About WHAT._

_Taichi shrugged._

_“I mean, I’d be too scared to do it. But you and the rest of the Coven are super capable so I’m not worried at all.” Sakuya patted his shoulder. “Good luck on finding the file. Just—stay safe when you do it, alright?”_

_File._

_What file?_

_He let Tenma Sumeragi’s signature frown melt onto his face. “It’s annoying, I guess. I’m having trouble remembering the name I’m supposed to be looking for.”_

_Sakuya laughed, bright and clear. “That’s okay, I have trouble remembering stuff too. Wa-ta-na-be. Remember? But you’re not gonna be working alone so I wouldn’t worry too much about that if I were you.”_

_Not working alone. The Coven. Watanabe file. Breaking into the Main Hall._

_Taichi got back up. “I need to go meet up with someone real quick. See you later, Sakuya.”_

_“Okay. Get back home safe!”_

_The word speared him through his spine when he walked away._

_…Home?_

“That was you?” Sakuya asked. 

Taichi screwed his eyes shut. So many layers of betrayal on the Coven and now he was a part of it. They didn’t even know all he’d done to cause trouble for them. Most were on orders from Reni but that first one. That first report, on information he’d gotten by sheer chance—that had all been his own action. 

Had he been trying to knock Sumeragi down a peg out of his own jealousy and spite? Was it just… a reflex at this point to report everything he found out to Reni? Had it been his desire to prove himself capable? 

Taichi didn’t know. He didn’t want to keep thinking about it. 

Sakuya suddenly burst out laughing. “You looked just like him though! You even did that confused pouting thing he does!” 

Huh? 

Taichi frowned at him. “You… You’re not mad?” 

Sakuya sighed and rubbed his face. “It was probably my own fault for talking about it outside of the Coven.” 

“They’re going to hate me if they find out.” Taichi curled up and hugged his knees to his chest. “They think—They think I did everything on orders. It wasn’t just orders.” 

“…Mmm. I don’t think so?” 

Taichi spared him a look. 

“I’m serious!” Sakuya said. He reached forward and patted Taichi’s back. He shirked away from the touch for a split second before permitting it. Through clothes was fine. He couldn’t copy then. “Did you know Misumi put Citron into a coma before he joined officially?” 

“Huh?” 

“Mhm. And Yuki—well, he made the entire living room explode and I had to fix it.” Sakuya began ticking off the members on his fingers. “I think Itaru tried to kill the Director once. I don’t think it was seriously, though! Mmm, and Citron. Pfft. He joined the Coven by meeting Director on the streets and bringing her into a wraith situation. Banri joined the Coven by causing a small apocalypse, we got Omi because I think he fought Banri during the break in. I’m not clear on that detail.” 

His hand dropped. 

“Taichi, basically what I’m saying is… Yeah. Maybe you made a mistake or did something you weren’t totally proud of, but that’s okay. The Coven’s a family and we forgive family for mistakes they make. We just gotta make sure we don’t do them again.” 

Family. 

Taichi's eyes welled. He tucked his face between his knees again to hide them. 

“I’m not good for a family,” he whispered. “I had to leave—I didn’t… I messed up my last one.” 

Sakuya knocked their knees together to bring Taichi’s head back up. 

“Why’d you join the Council?” Sakuya asked him. 

“I wanted… clearance.” Taichi swallowed thickly. “I need it. If I join the Council and I become documented, I-I thought… I don’t know. I looked for elven communities for two years but I couldn’t find them. I thought the Council could help with that.” 

“Why’d you want to find elves, Taichi?” 

To find the real Taichi Nanao. 

To finally feel like he belonged somewhere and that he wasn’t a freakish bother. 

To… 

“I wanted a family,” he confessed. Only for the night sky, the roof, and for Sakuya to hear. 

Sakuya crouched to his feet and wavered a little on the slanted surface to not fall over. He held a hand out. “I’m not gonna force you into the position, but I think you found a place where maybe you’ll have what you want. C’mon, Taichi. Let’s go back to your welcoming party. If you’re gone much longer, the Director and Omi are going to have a fight about who can use the kitchen to stress cook—and I think the Director’s gonna win it. If Tsuzuru looks at another bowl of curry, he might break down.” 

Sakuya laughed a little at his own words. 

Taichi stared at his hand and reached up to take it. 

Home. 

Maybe he’d find it here instead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did reni really give up that easily...? Or perhaps there is something even more sinister working under the surface....
> 
> AFTER 220K WORDS, WE ARE FINALLY, FINALLY FINISHED WITH THE OFFICIAL PROLOGUE/INTRODUCTION BIT.
> 
> After 1-2 transition chapters, WE'RE FINALLY GOING TO BE HITTING THE FIRST ARC OF THE FIC AHHHHHHHHHHHH I'M VERY EXCITED TO WRITE IT 
> 
> I KNOW Azuma Hisoka Tsumugi aren't here but they will be soon! :) As always, thank you for reading
> 
> Edit: I'm gonna take the next few days to edit the entire fic from chapter 1 :') I promised an IRL she could look at the fic once I finish the prologue so. So yeah. I should probably edit the kinks and fix the spelling/grammatical errors LOL


	33. Second in Command

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's an entire chapter about tsuzuru's birthday! this chapter eases tension, the next re-establishes some plot lines we may have forgotten about, and then the chapter after that goes full thrust into the wild first arc <3

Tsuzuru closed the door behind him. 

“So,” he started, voice strangled. 

Izumi raised one eyebrow. 

“It’s my birthday in a couple of days.” 

She nodded. “It is.” And behind her was her calendar, with a red circle right on the important April 9th. 

Tsuzuru shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You know the e-mail I sent out?” 

“The one where you told everybody in the Coven that you accept checks as birthday presents, and that you really want cash for your birthday rather than anything else, although you’ll accept handmade gifts if people are financially unable to provide money?” Izumi sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I got second hand embarrassment from reading it, but yeah. I was gonna hand you a check.” 

“I need to request a private, more personal gift from you,” he said slowly. 

That didn’t sound promising. 

“LIke… Burying a body kind of private and personal?” Izumi asked. 

“ _What?_ Who do you take me for, Banri?” 

“Banri wouldn’t—” 

His frown cut her off. Izumi thought about it. Okay, yeah, she could see it happening. 

“What do you need?” she said finally. 

“My parents have reeeeeeeally been wanting to meet you for a while,” Tsuzuru said. “I kind of, uh, held off on introducing you guys but they’re getting impatient so I thought I could ask you. You know. Since it’s my birthday.” 

Izumi laughed. “You don’t have to waste a birthday wish on that, I’m fine with meeting your parents regardless.” 

Tsuzuru’s face crumpled even further. Izumi’s feet went cold. She could recognize that expression even if she didn’t know the specifics. 

“What did you tell them,” she hissed immediately. 

“I need you to understand that it was the only way to convince my mom to let me move out.” 

“WHAT DID YOU TELL THEM, TSUZURU. WHAT LIES DID YOU TELL ABOUT ME.” 

Tsuzuru reached into his pocket and took out a golden necklace. He held it out, letting the cross dangle between them. “You’re going to need to wear this for brunch.” 

“YOU TOLD THEM I WAS CHRISTIAN?” 

He didn’t even look that apologetic. “I told them you were _very_ christian. How much of the biblical canon are you aware of?” 

Izumi huffed and crossed her arms, annoyed but not that surprised. “Judas kissed Jesus or something, I don’t know." 

Tsuzuru sighed deeply and turned around. “I’m coming back with two bibles. Get some notes out, we have a lot of studying to do.” 

“No!” 

He shot her a look over his shoulder. “It’s my _birthday_.” 

Izumi clamped her lips shut and swore as loudly as she could within her own mind.

* * *

“And Luke 19:11 to 19:27 is the parable about the golden coins,” Tsuzuru lectured, rubbing one of his eyes as drowsiness tugged at them. “Dad mentions this one a lot so you have to pay attention. Long story short, a man hands out golden coins before he goes on a trip. One of the people who receives them puts the money to good use and ends up making ten coins profit by the time his lord returns.” 

Izumi slammed her head on the pages of her notebook as hard as she could. “I. HATE. THIS.” 

He scowled, poking her head with the eraser end of his pencil. “Suck it up, I’m being nice to you. Have you ever been to the Veludo church? Their Sunday School program is an absolute nightmare, it’s why I offered to lecture my brothers.” 

A jotted note about not putting a gold coin in a handkerchief as Tsuzuru continued. She interrupted him again. “Say, I’ve been meaning to ask for a while but… Are you really catholic?” 

He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“It’s just… you know.” Izumi waved a hand vaguely. “I got the sense that you’re not really as devout as you make your parents sound.” 

Tsuzuru snorted. “I own a hundred and twenty bibles.” 

“What happened to the other fifty?” 

“Sold them.” Tsuzuru leaned back in his chair. “I dunno. I think about it a lot. I definitely do believe in the Lord and Jesus even if true faith took me a while to figure out. And there’s a lot of things catholicism is unfortunately associated with that make me uncomfortable. Maybe it’s just because it’s so ingrained in my childhood that I’m catholic but at the end of the day, I’m still going to say a prayer every now and then. I still believe in heaven.” 

“Huh.” 

He flinched like he just remembered something. “On that topic… You _cannot_ mentioned that you like women in front of my mom." 

Izumi’s face soured. 

Tsuzuru forged on even when she opened her mouth to protest. “I _know_. Trust me, I get it, I really do. But it’s just the easiest way to make sure this brunch goes over easily.” 

“I’m not going to be like ‘hey Mrs. Minagi, thanks for brunch, pass the scrambled eggs, also I like to kiss girls!’” 

He blanched. “Director, you know what I mean.” 

“They’re homophobic?” 

“Homophobic… is a strong word.” He buried his face in his arms. “Dad’s not, if that helps. Mom’s not either—! Well.” He went quiet. 

She knocked her knuckles on his head. “How bad?” 

“Really, really not that bad, seriously, it’s just…” He didn’t lift his head. “Let me put it this way. If any one of us chose to come out at any time, mom loves us enough to come around and accept it eventually. That’s never been a question. It’s just—gonna be uncomfortable.” 

Izumi leaned onto her elbows. “You thought about it?” 

He didn’t say anything else. 

She sighed and ruffled his hair. “Relax. My mom doesn’t know either.” 

“She doesn’t?” 

Izumi made a face. “It’s complicated. I’m pretty sure she already has an idea but we've never really had an actual conversation about it. It’s like… I know if I tell her I’m bi, it’s _going_ to end up with her asking if it’s her fault, or dad’s fault.” 

Tsuzuru lifted his head up. “ _Fault_ is a pretty nasty word.” 

“Tell me about it. No, mom, I don’t like girls because dad’s been absent for most of my life and it left me with a distaste for the male populace.” She rolled her eyes and flipped a page of the bible. “As long as you say your mom would come around, I’m not too worried about it.” 

He pressed his lips together and flushed. He was staring at the wall rather than at her. “I never really, uh, got a chance to talk about it with someone else. About... you know. Ever."

Izumi patted his hand. “You don’t have to now. But if you wanted someone to listen, I’d be up for it.” 

Tsuzuru shut the Holy Bible. “How did bible study turn to a discussion on the intricacies of sexuality?” 

She shrugged. “Funny how things end up like that, right?” 

If someone bothered to ask, Izumi would be honest in her opinion about Tsuzuru. The kid could not be trusted to take care of himself; he never slept, his diet was garbage, and she was pretty sure she’d seen him wear the same outfit for four days in a row. A college kid through and through. But there was also the secondary, unshakeable quality in him that really defined all of his actions—being a big brother. He’d probably die before he readily admitted it, but Tsuzuru would _never_ let anyone in the Coven younger than him suffer. He was a snarky asshole, a complete pain in her neck, and currently ranked second on the list of people she thought about punching at any given moment, but… there was a reason he was also second-in-command. 

And with all that considered, Izumi wondered if Tsuzuru ever took time for himself. He always seemed to be too caught up in working or caring for others to spend time being his own first priority. 

“I like… girls,” he said slowly. 

“Same.” 

“Director, please.” 

Izumi chuckled and waved her pen. “Right. Sorry. Go on.” 

His eyebrows creased in the middle as the cogs in his mind turned. “I think I figured out a while ago I—maybe like guys too? I don’t know. Sometimes it hits you, like ‘oh, this probably isn’t just a platonic admiration of someone else.’ I didn’t really spend much time thinking about it though. Dating’s way off into the horizon for me, always has been. There are a lot more things I have on my plate to deal with at the moment.” 

She straightened her back. _That_ got her attention. “Always?" 

“…Yeah?” 

Izumi stared at him. “No. You’re joking.” 

Tsuzuru looked just as confused as she did. “What are you talking about?” 

“Kazunari _isn’t_ your ex?” 

He leapt out of his chair like something had just burnt him. “EXCUSE ME?” 

“He’s not?!” 

“DIRECTOR, TRULY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.” 

Izumi floundered to justify herself. “But he’s always going on and on about how good looking you are and how close—! I thought there was drama there, I don’t know, I’m sorry!” 

Tsuzuru’s mouth dropped open even further. “That’s just how he is! You thought I—you thought he and I were—?! DIRECTOR!” 

“It’s not that bad!” 

“IT’S _KAZUNARI!_ ” Tsuzuru melted back into his chair and rubbed his eyes, moaning. “You are horrible. Shut up, don’t even talk to me. Open the bible, we’re starting again. Anything to end this conversation.” 

Ah, fuck. She’d been hoping this could drag on to keep the Jesus Lecture at bay a little longer. She tried again. “But… do you have a crush on him?” 

Tsuzuru lunged across the table, hands outstretched for her neck.

* * *

“And whatever you do, you _cannot_ mentioned the flat earth theory in front of them, dad might actually have an aneurysm and I’m pretty sure our health insurance won’t cover it,” Tsuzuru hissed under his breath as they walked further down the street towards his house. 

She tugged at her stiff collar. Tsuzuru had torn through her closet and picked out both her least favorite blouse and her most unflattering pair of slacks. “I don’t like this outfit.” 

“You look like a proper christian.” 

“I _look_ like I’m repressed." 

“Same difference.” 

She whacked his arm. 

Tsuzuru glanced up at the sky as they approached the Minagi house. He muttered something. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Praying that this goes well.” He knocked on the door and stepped away. 

Like he’d pressed the button for a land mine, noise exploded on the other side of the door. Voices shouted and feet pounded on the floor as several people drew closer in a stampede. 

_“I wanna get it!”_

_“Go away, it’s my door!”_

_“No, mine!”_

_“MINE!”_

_“Big brother’s home! Big brother’s home! Yaaaaay!”_

_“All of you get back to the dining room!"_

_“Yeees, Dad._ ” 

The door opened and Izumi stared up at— 

Tsuzuru pinched her so hard, tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Don’t,” he breathed. “Do not. I will actually kill you.” 

So she didn’t say anything. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Minagi,” she said, throwing on a quivering smile as she struggled not to burst into hysterical laughter. “I’m Izumi Tachibana, from Mankai Coven.” 

Tsuzuru’s father was more or less exactly what she’d pictured Tsuzuru to look like in two or three decades. Tired, tall, wearing glasses, a little on the skinny side… 

But she had not been prepared for the shiny bald head. 

Mr. Minagi wasn’t _completely_ bald. He had tufts of hair around the sides of his head, a little still at the nape of his neck. But the top of his head was shiny and bare and looked kind of like a ham before it was put in the oven. 

Male patterned baldness was in Tsuzuru’s genes and thus his future.

She was going to tease him endlessly for that when she got the chance. 

“None of that, Izumi!” Mr. Minagi said warmly, opening the door further. “Come in, come in! I can’t _remember_ the last time Tsuzuru brought someone home to meet the family. Last was Mizuno but that must have been in elementary school. He’s a recluse, that one.” 

“ _Dad_ ,” Tsuzuru hissed. 

Mr. Minagi chortled and slapped his son’s back. “You know, we got a letter from the Council. Something about making sure to teach our kids to respect authority. Don’t suppose you have something to do with that?” 

Tsuzuru went red. 

Mr. Minagi grabbed Tsuzuru and swung him around. Or at least, he would have if he wasn’t so skinny. So he just shook his son this way and that. “THERE’S MY BOY!” 

“Hotaru, you’re going to make him sick. Let the poor boy go, he just got here.” 

Tsuzuru smiled. “Hi, mom.” 

Izumi honestly expected someone in a black dress and hair up in a tight bun. Maybe a big cross around her neck too, something that just radiated I Love Jesus from how _much_ Tsuzuru had stressed it. But Chiyo Minagi actually looked kind of like the face you saw on a cake box. Short, rotund, rosy-cheeked, and with a big comforting smile. She had a cocoa-y brown bob, the same color as the bits on Tsuzuru that Izumi had thought was just him going gray. 

“Might as well get the dog pile over with while you can, Tsuzuru,” his mother said, gesturing to the room behind her. “Miss Tachibana! So nice of you to come—Tsuzuru mentioned calling you Director. Should we do the same?” 

“If you’d like!” Izumi said, relaxing. 

Hotaru Minagi guffawed. “We’ll just call her Izumi! Might as well make her one of the family if she’s feeding Tsuzuru, eh?” 

Tsuzuru’s mother clapped her hands. “How sweet! I’ve always wanted a daughter. None of the boys have gotten married yet, isn’t that such a shame, Director? Are you single? Oh, you’d just _love_ Tadoru if you got to know him, how about I give you his phone number to give him a call sometime?” 

“Mom!” Tsuzuru snapped. “She just got here! Can you _please_ lay off for like a few hours before you try to convince her to join the Minagi Bloodline?"

“I want grandchildren, Tsuzuru,” his mother said flatly. 

“You have Yuzuru! He’s four! You can’t make him an uncle when he’s four years old!” 

She pointed to the room again. “Don’t you have a room you have to be getting to by now? Your brothers are waiting.” 

Tsuzuru narrowed his eyes and trudged off. 

“Big brother! You’re home, you’re home!” 

“ _Oof._ Hi, Yuzuru. Have you been listening to Kaoru?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Look at me! Look!” 

Quiet. 

“That’s really great, Yuzuru.” 

“I know! Wanna see it again?” 

“No, that’s okay, I believe you can spin without showing me another time." 

“I’m gonna do again!” 

“Okay, Yuzuru.” 

The Minagi parents ushered her in next after waiting a moment. 

“The boys always get so excited whenever Tsuzuru comes back home, we figured you could sit out the stampede for the first time,” Mr. Minagi explained. “We have so many questions! You’ve been a real topic of conversation at our dinner table, Director!” 

She had been? Well, sure, why not, there’s another spot on her list of Things I Didn’t Know That Knowing Makes Me Nervous. She just threw on what she hoped look like a God Loving smile. Izumi let herself be led into the room with tatami flooring and one large brown table. Tsuzuru was on his back, with three of his brothers piled on top of him and another one, the youngest, spinning in circles and giggling to himself. 

Mrs. Minagi clapped her hands. “Boys! We have a visitor!” 

“Did big brother get a girlfriend?” one of them yelled. 

Tsuzuru choked. 

“Ewwww, girls have coooooties!” another howled. “Cooties!” 

Izumi had to laugh. 

Mrs. Minagi pointed to each of her sons. “From the fourth son down, that’s Kaoru, Noboru, Suberu, Tooru, Ataru, Takeru, and Yuzuru.” 

“I’m Takeru!” the one who accused her of having cooties yelled, jumping off of Tsuzuru’s stomach. Tsuzuru let out a cough as Takeru’s heel caught him on his ribs. “You have a funny nose.” 

Dang. Izumi touched her nose. “Do I?” 

“Yeah!” Takeru stuck his tongue out. “Bleeeehhhhh!” 

“Takeru!” Mrs. Minagi scolded. “That’s very rude, apologize right now!” 

“No!” he screamed, and ran laughing wildly into the kitchen. 

Tsuzuru’s dad sighed and started jogging after him. “I’ll go get him before he breaks into the dried laver cupboard again." 

The brother wearing glasses, Tooru, winced. He came over and bowed quickly. “I’m so sorry about him. Takeru’s at the age where he doesn’t think before he opens his mouth, please don’t take anything he says to heart. It’s an honor to have the High Priestess come to our home.” 

Man, _this_ one looked like he wasn’t even high school yet and he was talking so politely. 

Izumi shook his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Nice to meet you too!” 

She glanced around the room, focusing in on the Minagis that hadn't introduced themselves. The two boys still on top of Tsuzuru, she guessed that those were the twins, were watching her the way groundhogs did, before deciding whether or not it would be safe to exit their holes. The fourth eldest, Kaoru, stood in the corner of his room looking _very_ seventeen, arms crossed and scowling. Ataru, just barely shorter than Tooru, was hiding behind him.

It was one thing to hear Tsuzuru talk about his big family. It was another thing to be in a room with most of them. She couldn't imagine growing up with so many others around. It must have been so nice.

Mr. Minagi reemerged with Takeru slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. 

“Say sorry to the Director, Takeru,” he chided, spinning in a circle. 

Takeru screamed in his grasp, but whether it was out of terror or glee Izumi couldn’t tell. “I’m sorryyyyyyy, big nose lady!” 

“Takeru!" 

“These boys will be the end of me. I'll go get the food before they embarrass me more,” Tsuzuru’s mother said, heading to the kitchen next. “Why don’t you make yourself at home, Director? Brunch will take only a minute to bring out.” 

“I’ll go help you, mother,” Tooru said dutifully. 

Izumi looked down when she felt something around her leg. Yuzuru clung to her calf, staring up at her with wide eyes. “Hi!” 

“Hello!” she said in reply. 

Yuzuru stared at her some more. “Do you know what my favorite bug is?” 

“Nope. Can you tell me?” 

“I like dragonflies!” 

“That’s nice. What do you like about them?” 

Yuzuru frowned like that wasn’t a question he’d been prepared to answer and ran off again, tackling into one of the twins and sending them both sprawling onto Tsuzuru's face, who only groaned in muted agony. 

This was going to be an interesting time.

* * *

Tsuzuru’s mother came back with ten large plates bobbing in the air behind her, forming one long porcelain train. 

“Director, come sit beside us, I insist!” Mr. Minagi said, scooting to the side to make room for her. 

Tsuzuru grabbed her by the wrist. “It’s fine, dad, she’ll sit next to me.” 

She shot him a look. _What, so you can stab me whenever I’m about to say the wrong thing with your brunch fork?_

He only gave her an equally scathing squint in reply. _I’m stabbing you with chopsticks. I don’t trust you enough to use just a fork._

It’s his birthday, Izumi. You cannot punch the birthday boy, Izumi. Definitely not in front of his parents. 

“Big brother has a cruuuuuush,” one of the twins, the one with the unfortunate bowl cut (Noboru?), snickered. “He wants to sit next to his giiiiiirlfriiiiieeeeend.” 

“We’re going to have to change his place on the ranking,” the other twin (Suberu?) said, equally mischievous. 

Izumi glanced at the big brother in question. “Ranking?” 

He didn’t even have the energy to blush. 

Noboru reached into his pocket and took out a little notepad. “We have lots of running rankings between us brothers. Big bro Tsuzu’s ranked first for ‘Most Likely to Die Alone.’” 

Izumi pressed her lips together so hard it began to hurt. “Is he, now?” She turned her face to Tsuzuru, lips shaking from the sheer force it took her to not start crying right then and there, pounding her fist on the table as she struggled to breathe. “ _Are_ you, now?”

Tsuzuru sighed and rubbed his temples.

“Just barely outranks Tooru by two loneliness points,” Suberu said sagely. 

Tooru frowned at them both. “You guys are so mean.” 

“Hey, it’s not our fault you and Ataru rank higher than the four year old.” 

Yuzuru smiled wide and held up his palm. “I married Akari coloring time yesterday! We put our mats together during nap time, and she has purple hair tie thingies. I love her sooooo much. But I think I’m gonna marry Mio next instead, she has the best coloring pencils!" 

The true womanizer of the Minagi family, it seemed. 

“Ewwwwwwww!” Takeru screeched. “COOTIES! YUZURU’S A COOTIE-FARM!” 

Ataru sniffled shyly. He wiped his eyes like the tension at the table was getting too much to bear. He glanced at Noboru. “It’s not like you’re gonna get a girlfriend with a haircut like that, you know.” 

Izumi actually gasped. Sometimes she couldn’t help but forget that it was always the quiet kids who always dropped the world-ending phrases. 

“Shut up, dweeb!” Noboru snapped. 

“N-No! Y-You shut your mouth!” 

Tsuzuru’s mother slammed the first plate down. “BOYS! Those are _not_ words Jesus would like you using! What do you say?!” 

Noboru and Ataru both frowned and looked away. 

“Sorry, Ataru.” 

“S-Sorry, Noboru.” 

Mrs. Minagi tapped her foot. “And?” 

They both clasped their hands together. “Sorry, Jesus Christ.” 

“Good.” She sat down and waved the rest of the plates over. “Now, everyone take your seats. Director, would you like to start us off by saying grace?” 

By saying _what?_ Tsuzuru hadn’t given her a crash course on how to say grace before meals! Izumi had _never_ said grace before in her entire life! 

“Mom, maybe I should be the one to say it,” Tsuzuru said quickly, panicking. “I mean, haha, it’s been a while and I really miss saying grace for the whole family.” 

His mother rolled her eyes. “We can’t have you in the spotlight all the time, dear. Let Director have a chance at it since she’s never eaten with us before." 

No, no, no, no, no, no. Bad idea. Izumi had a feeling that Mrs. Minagi’s smile would turn _very_ sour if she found out Izumi had never stepped foot into a church in her life and that the cross she wore around her neck was a sham. 

“Take it away, Director,” Tsuzuru’s father said cheerfully, before taking his wife’s hand and Tsuzuru’s and bowing his head low. 

Everyone took hands and lowered their heads. Even Tsuzuru, although he had gone very white in the face and was whispering a whole other kind of prayer under his breath. Probably for God to somehow forge a path for them. Maybe apologizing to the Lord for lying to his mother. 

Izumi was screwed. 

“Ahem.” 

She started and looked at the kid sitting on her other side. 

The glasses Minagi, Tooru, cleared his throat again. He gestured to the omelette in front of her, making a subtle pushing movement that could have been mistaken as just a throwaway hand by anyone else watching. 

…No. 

Izumi pretended to sneeze a little and jostled her plate. The omelette moved, showing a little note tucked under it. Written on yellow paper so that it blended in with the egg. She glanced at Tooru again who had resumed the same pose as the rest of his family. The kid had prepared her a prayer. 

It was official. 

Izumi maybe had a new favorite Minagi. 

Sorry, Tsuzuru, but rather than seven hours of useless bible study, she would have _much_ rather preferred this method of sneaking her cheat sheets. 

“Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Bless the hands that have prepared this meal, and bless all those who partake in it to be protected by Your divine presence. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.” 

Tsuzuru's mother raised her head and beamed like Izumi had just passed a test and was now officially a cousin of theirs. “Let’s eat!” 

Tsuzuru shot her a completely bewildered look. Izumi glanced at Tooru who was nibbling on a bacon slice like all was right with the world. Tsuzuru’s face went soft.

And so, the two of them began eating.

* * *

“Your family’s nice,” Izumi commented as they walked back to the dorms. “I’d like to come again!” 

Tsuzuru smiled. “Yeah. Love them.” 

“You really wanted to move out that badly?” 

He lifted the hem of his shirt to show off the eight new bruises that dotted his abdomen. “At this point, it was for my physical safety and wellbeing." 

“Ah.” 

They continued on their walk, silent. 

“What did you get from your brothers?” she asked. 

Tsuzuru held up his manila folder. “Birthday cards. It’s always birthday cards for us since we can’t afford much. Oh, Takeru made a candy bracelet for me though.” 

He held out his wrist to show the tied dental floss. 

“Where’s the—?” 

“He ate it all.” 

They both burst out laughing. When Izumi came back up, collected enough to speak, she choked out, “You should give Tooru a really good present for _his_ birthday. The kid came in clutch and saved both of our necks.” 

Tsuzuru wiped his eyes. “I’m _so_ proud of him. You know he’s the only non-christian in the family so far, right?” 

“For real?” 

“Yeah, he told me he was an atheist like a year ago. Obviously, we are not telling our parents.” 

Izumi nodded. “That’s nice. And you’re not worried about that?” 

Tsuzuru glanced up at the sky like he was asking nothing to smite him for what he was about to say. “I mean, I pray extra hard for Tooru to get into heaven. I try to make it clear that I’ll give up my spot if he’s allowed to sneak in. Honestly, though, Tooru’s a really good kid. He still donates to the charity box, he still works for the church’s soup kitchen when he gets the time, and he’s a real responsible brother. Sometimes, I worry if he’s growing up too fast.” 

“ _You_ grew up too fast, I feel like,” Izumi noted. 

“Whatever. I came out okay at least.” The Caster looked deep in thought. “Maybe Tooru doesn’t believe in Jesus but I think Jesus believes in him. He’s _such_ a good kid. And if faith is all that separates my brother from getting into heaven and not, well, maybe there isn’t a God after all. Or at least, not a God as good as the one I believe in.” 

Izumi snorted. “Borderlining blasphemous there, Minagi.” 

“Oh, okay, so one grace and you’re ready to lecture me?” He held out his hand. “I want my cross back.” 

She laughed loudly and unclasped the necklace from around her neck, handing it over.

* * *

They walked in and poppers went off. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” everyone inside crowed. 

Kazunari slung an arm around Tsuzuru’s neck. “Look at this guy! It was only like yesterday you were an ickle baby-kins and now you’re nineteen? Totes cray-cray, Tsuzuroon! You’re gonna make me cry, man!” 

Misumi was on his other side, leaning on him dramatically. “Waaaaaah… Tsuzu’s growing up! He’s gonna be a big boy like you and me, Kazu!” 

“You said it, Sumi! Welcome to the nineteen-ers club, Tsuzuroon, you mad lad!" 

Tsuzuru shot the Director a look as the Witch and the Caster jostled him back and forth. “You knew about this? I thought I discussed not wanting a big event." 

“Just because we had brunch with your family doesn’t mean you can’t get to celebrate with us,” Izumi said very matter-of-factly. “Suck it up, Minagi, you have two families to celebrate with now.” 

His heart felt like it was slipped into a warm bath. He rubbed a red cheek, willing the heat to go away, and then brushed Kazunari and Misumi off of him. 

“Right.” Tsuzuru held out his hands towards the large group. “Okay, give me.” 

The entire room paused their joyous shouts. 

“Give?” Yuki asked, screwing up his face. 

“Money. I want my money.” 

Banri rolled his eyes and held out a little envelope. “You’re such a money-grubbing skeeze, dude.” 

“Not everyone’s blessed in this world, Banri. Thank you very much.” He slipped the envelope into his pocket and held out his hands to the rest of them. Omi chuckled and handed Tsuzuru a little coin purse, weighed with a handful of 500 yen coins. 

“Happy birthday, Tsuzuru,” he said with a firm pat on his shoulder. 

Tsuzuru shut his eyes. “Oh, Omi. You were the only one who didn’t have to get me anything. Just having you around is enough of a gift every day.” 

Omi’s eyes shone as he laughed again, this time gentler. “Thanks, it means a lot coming from you.” 

Tsuzuru looked particularly excited when Tenma came forward although it dropped immediately when Tenma handed him a box instead of an envelope. 

“Did you… not get my email, Tenma?” Tsuzuru asked politely. 

Tenma scratched his head. “No, I did. I didn’t get it though. I had to ask Misumi for what you meant.” 

Was it an entire _box_ of money? Tsuzuru tore the wrapping paper then and there, even when the Director kneed him in the thigh for being rude. 

Tsuzuru blinked at the pretty American quarters arranged on velvet that came into sight. 

“It’s what you wanted, right?” Tenma asked worriedly. “Uh… Didn’t know what you meant by just ‘money.’ So I got you the special quarters from the US. Hope you like it, didn’t know you collected rare coins, bro. ’S cool.” 

“Oh my god,” Yuki whispered and put his face in his hands. “Oh my god. I can’t—you are _so_ stupid.” 

Tenma frowned deeper. “What! What did I do?” 

Tsuzuru closed his eyes. “This is very nice, Tenma. Thank you, I’ll treasure it forever.” 

It’s okay. He would just cry about it later. 

Citron handed the birthday boy his own envelope of cash with a sorry smile. “I got the vision after he already placed the border. Sorry, Tsuzuru!” 

“Order. It’s alright, Citron.” All things considered, actually, this was still the best birthday Tsuzuru had had in a while. Definitely beat his fifteenth birthday when he got lost during a mushroom hunt. 

Masumi handed him another box. Tsuzuru nearly crumpled under the weight of it. 

“What is this?” he asked, panting. 

Masumi shrugged. 

It was an entire box of ten yen coins. Kazunari burst into peals of laughter, nearly falling off of his chair as he watched Tsuzuru look down at it. 

“You said you wanted money,” Masumi said flatly. 

Tsuzuru just stared down at the mess of coins. “How much—?” 

“Count it.” 

Wow. 

Taichi and Sakuya handed him both cards. 

“I don’t… have a lot of cash on me, so I hope you don’t mind,” Taichi said awkwardly. 

“Same. But we made them together!” Sakuya held out a keychain. “And this one, too. Yuki helped us with the resin.” 

The brownie looked away. “Whatever. I did it because I was bored.” 

It was a pretty dandelion flower encased in a smooth orb. He ruffled Sakuya’s hair. 

“It’s great. Thanks, you guys, I love cards too.” He ruffled Taichi’s hair next and laughed when the changeling went redder than his own hair. 

Yuki scooted away. “You touch my hair and I’ll cut off your hands.” 

“Noted.” Tsuzuru glanced at the demon standing near the back. “What. The guy with my soul isn’t going to give me anything?” 

Itaru handed him a box of pop rocks. “Happy birthday, sacrifice. Try to let a few more go by before I get to take your soul down to hell.” 

“You’re charming as always. _Hate_ that you’re hot, never forget that.” 

Izumi clapped her hands twice. “Okay! Let’s get cake and the song started before Tsuzuru has a breakdown again, right?! You all know the drill. One! Two! THREE!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Updates miiiight be a little slow for the next couple of weeks as I work on editing/re-visit the outline to make sure I'm doing things right/irl commitments. I swear I'm not losing my motivation or fire for the fic, I'm just a little swamped ( ^^ ; ) Luckily, the end of August should mean a decrease in a lot of my other responsibilities so.... holding out for that!
> 
> Keep Tooru and Yuzuru in mind. They're going to pop up in the future.


	34. The Eye of the Storm Passes

Banri leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. The moon hung low in the sky outside his window, almost mocking him about the hours of freedom that were past and how he’d have to go to school soon. If his parents found out he’d skipped another day, they were going to be pissed. He shoved the tattered papers from the Council’s ghost book into his drawer and crept under his covers.

Translating wasn’t going well. He’d need help if he didn’t want to waste time on this.

Some bits he’d managed to feed through Google Translate had gone really well. There were more “types” of ghosts than he’d thought. There weren’t just ghosts or wraiths—there were poltergeists too. And something he couldn’t directly translate. Something about mist and fog and light; but the poltergeist part was more interesting.

Banri figured Hyodo would be more life-like if he could manipulate physical objects. Yeah, it was a far shout from duking it out but at least it was something. He could work on it from there. It sucked that there was only a limited amount of time he could talk to Hyodo. There was 3 AM to sunrise, and only that was a few times a week since the asshole seemed to like hanging around the Coven more. Whatever.

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at his desk’s drawer. Underneath an old workbook, there was the folded permission slip he’d filched from the Director’s office all those weeks ago. Maybe he should just move in already. Getting his parents to sign it without telling them about the magic shit would be a pain in the ass but he could pull it off. If he told them that it was an institution for the well-management of delinquent boys through farming.

Yeah, that was a work in progress.

Something under his bed wiggled. He leaned over and waggled his fingers, bidding his bunny over. The magic seemed to wear off after a few hours when he toned down the whole bloodlust thing, but Banri liked the company when he had a long night of work. So he liked to raise Isabel Paterson back to life every now and then. The bunny didn’t do much besides nibble on his fingertips and snuffle but she was nice to have around.

“What do you think,” he asked flatly. “About the whole ghost business?”

Isabel Paterson flopped over onto her back and waved her little feet at him.

“Yeah, I think it’s a fucking nightmare’s worth of work too.”

Things could go by so much faster if Banri had easy access to a ghost for more than just a few hours every other day. It’d help his sleep schedule too—he’d fallen asleep in the middle of Lit class yesterday and nearly slipped out of his chair.

Isabel Paterson’s ribs click-clacked on his bedroom floor as she rolled over again and hopped off to somewhere under his desk.

Wait a minute.

Banri sat up straight.

Seers could see ghosts all the time, right? He was blessed, he could probably figure out a way or two to get that kind of vision down. The fuck had he been wasting all that time for? The available work hours could grow exponentially if he could just fucking see ghosts without having to rely on the time of day. 

That Citron guy seemed like a pain in the ass to learn from though.

Banri pursed his lips. He knew what he had to do but it would be annoying. Good thing that pink-haired little bastard owed him.

* * *

“Yes?” Izumi asked, opening the door.

Muku stood outside with a suitcase beside him, arms holding a large box of his manga. “H-Hi, Director!”

“Oh, hey, kiddo! You’re back a day early!”

She took the box from him and helped him inside. “Mhm. Dad, uh, landed in a patch of poison ivy so we cut the trip short so he could go home and rest until the rash cleared up. We got back last night, sorry I didn’t text! Things were pretty... hectic.”

“Welcome back, Muku,” Omi called from the kitchen. He flipped a pancake over.

“Thank you, Omi.”

“Extra strawberries with yours?”

“Yes, please!"

Izumi snorted and dropped the box off on his bed. “It’s fine, it’s just good to have you back. How you feeling?”

“I’m doing okay.” He rubbed his arm and smiled sadly. “I had a lot of time to just… think. Yeah. Mom says we might have to start up therapy again to sift through my… she said ‘uniqueness’ but I think she means issues. I don’t know, I really don’t like therapy.”

Izumi tousled his hair. “Whatever happens, the Coven will be here to support you.”

“T-Thank you!”

“I think most of the kids are still sleeping. You can unpack until they wake up.” She looked him up and down for a moment, and then sighed. “Still kind of mad about you and Yuki going behind my back to break into the Main Hall but your heart was in the right place so I’ll let you off with a warning this time.”

He flushed. “I would have asked for permission! But… you were, um, in jail.”

It was true but Izumi didn’t have to like it.

“How’s Taichi?” Muku asked.

“Oh! That’s right, you haven’t met him yet.” Izumi sighed. “He’s having a little trouble getting used to being around others, I think. He spends most of his time in the courtyard with Monica. We’re letting him take it easy to acclimate to the Coven but I really should start on his syllabus.”

Muku clapped his hands. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

It was difficult to give lessons to a kid who refused to step foot indoors if he could help it. Izumi had tried, honestly—they’d sat down together in the training room to go over his transformations. But the longer Taichi had to sit still and try to focus, the more skittish and panicked he seemed to get. Anxious energy came off of him in waves unless he was outside. At this point, the only time he’d reliably come back in was for meals. Then there was that other odd habit of his.

Right on cue, Taichi’s door opened. It was weird to see Muku come out when she could still see him inside his own room from the corner of his eye. The real Muku’s eye and lip had healed somewhat, but Taichi’s replacement still had that nasty bruise.

“Morning, Taichi,” Izumi said. “You’re up early.”

“Hungry…” he murmured. 

Muku, the real one, popped his head out in surprise. “Oh… Wow. That’s—That’s my face, isn’t it?”

Taichi let out a yelp and let it melt off immediately. “Sorry! I didn’t know you were…” 

His entire face flushed red. He ran back to his room, slamming the door shut. Izumi sighed again and shook her head.

“Sorry about that,” she said, glancing at Muku. “Taichi has a bit of a problem with staying in his own form for long. I think he’s defaulted to shifting to you when he goes to sleep since you haven’t been around.”

Muku swallowed and touched his own face. “I-If it’s what makes him comfortable, he can keep doing it. I’m fine with it.”

Izumi ruffled his hair again because she could, and also she just kind of missed having Muku around. It was nice to have another ray of sunshine back. “We’ll discuss that later. Why don’t you start unpacking?”

“Okay, Director! Is… Mister Citron alright?”

“Yeah, he’s still sleeping. He’s just fine, Muku.”

He looked down at his feet and nodded. “Okay.”

“You mad at him?”

Muku actually jumped a little like the words scared him. “No! No, no, no, of course not, I was—I’m scared Mister Citron’s mad at me. After… After last week.”

She had to laugh a little. “Muku, Citron spent the past week you were gone moping and staring out the sliding glass window like he was in a sad music video. I think the two of you are on a similar page. Plus, Yuki gave him a real talking to. That kid might be twelve inches tall but he’s scary.”

“Oh…” Muku wiped his nose and nodded firmly. “Okay! I can—I can continue my lessons then?”

“What? Of course, that’s not a question. If anything, your lessons should double since you’ve got some time off of school.”

Muku winced. The expulsion was evidently still a sore subject for him. “Yeah… I might have to take some time off to study for the transfer exam, but otherwise I’ll be hanging out here a lot.”

Omi poked his head in. “We’re out of chocolate milk, Director. Should I go do a quick run for it?”

Izumi glanced at the clock. “I’ll go wake Misumi up. He can grab it when he goes for Monica’s breakfast, yeah?”

“You got it.”

Muku was staring at her. She rubbed the end of her nose. “Do I have something on my face?”

“N-No!” he stammered immediately, going pink. “Sorry, Director… I guess your, um, your aura’s changed a little in the past week.”

That was odd. She couldn’t imagine why. “Really? What’d it change to?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. I think it’s… bigger.”

Fuck, did she gain weight? Omi’s cooking was too good to come without consequences, she knew it. 

“Thanks, Muku,” Izumi said simply with a shake of her head. She’d see if she could hit the gym this week. Or maybe ignore the problem altogether and still eat an extra helping of Omi’s bread pudding for dessert. That sounded like a solution.

* * *

Itaru X’d out of the game and stood up to crack his aching spine. The Coven always seemed to be at a crisis but currently was in one of those rare times of peace. It was now or never. He exited his dorm, blinking uncomfortably in the bright light of the hallway that was so different from the light of his monitor, and swept off to the sacrifice’s lab.

“What are you doing here?” Tsuzuru asked, taking off his safety goggles.

Itaru frowned at the anti-magic in the petri dish in front of him. “You’re killing yourself by staying near that.”

“I wear gloves, I’ll be fine. What do you need?”

Itaru sat on a stool. “I want money.”

Tsuzuru snorted. “Join the club. I’m not giving you any if that’s what you’re after.”

“I need more than what you can offer, miserly scrub. It would be nice to have more than whatever this Coven can offer.” Itaru’s upper lip curled with distaste. 

“Didn’t you say you had a bunch of riches somewhere? Where’s your fortune?” Tsuzuru asked.

Itaru waved his hand. A ring of fire burst to life and from the shadowy pit rose a small chest. Itaru opened it and showed off the small trove of golden coins and gemstones.

“This is a portion of what I have available to me,” he said flatly. “Unfortunately, I doubt many people in Japan would be willing to take this in exchange for Steam store credit. And the idea of pawning off valuables to receive only a fraction of their worth displeases me greatly.”

Tsuzuru dove for the chest like he was an Olympic swimmer and the gold was a beckoning pool. “Holy shit, Itaru. Are these real?!”

“Yes.”

The Caster stared at the handful of gold coins in his hand. They were ridiculously heavy—likely not gold-plated then. He reached for another and paused when his fingers touched something that made a nasty squelching noise. He grabbed and pulled.

He stared at the thing in his palm.

“Itaru,” Tsuzuru said calmly. “Is this a human kidney?”

Itaru snatched it back. “I knew I was missing one.”

“What do you do with—?”

Tsuzuru’s lips clamped shut when the demon popped it into his mouth and swallowed without chewing. 

“Never mind,” Tsuzuru said. 

“Human kidneys taste almost as good as Doritos.”

Tsuzuru figured that this was one of those things where if he asked about it, or if he thought about it more than absolutely necessary, he would have a breakdown. So he chose to not.

“What do you want my help with?” he asked finally, already drained and exhausted.

Itaru’s face went serious again. “Help me fill out a job application.”

Tsuzuru stared at him and then crossed his legs. “Wow. Not… what I expected.”

“Hah?”

“No, no, it’s like—I don’t know. I thought you were gonna ask me to help you rob a bank, or start bounty hunting. Not job applications.” He bobbed his head. “I like this alternative much better though. Okay, what are you looking for?”

“Nine to five. Decent wage to put into my hobbies.”

Tsuzuru went to fetch his laptop, returning with it open. “Let’s get your resume set up. Obviously we’re going to have to bullshit a lot of information since you’re a demon. You look around… early twenties. If we put you in as a fresh college graduate, you could get jobs easier.”

Itaru just waved a hand and let the Caster continue. “Anything with a decent pay.”

“Entry level office work would be the one with the least labor intensive work unless it’s a crunch week.” The tip of Tsuzuru’s tongue poked out from his lips as he typed furiously. “Maybe we should say you’re from abroad. That’d work—you can speak a lot of languages, can’t you?”

“A handful fluently.”

Tsuzuru seemed to get oddly excited as he wrote out Itaru’s resume like he was repeating a process he was altogether too well-versed in. “Let’s say you had your schooling done in America. We’ll send it out to a few branches seeking extra hands and get you a glamour to get the horns and goat feet out of the way if they call you in for an interview.”

“Michigan,” Itaru said suddenly.

He glanced up. “Huh?”

“Say I came from Michigan.”

“…Okay. But why?”

Itaru smiled. “There are two people in this world I find acceptable as living organisms, sacrifice. One is the Witchling we have in our midst.”

Well, that much was obvious. “Who’s the other one? The Director? Misumi?”

“Disgusting. No. There’s a man named Josh who lives in Florida. We play on many MMORPGs and we’ve shared a lot of time on Discord VC. He’s the rogue in our D&D campaigns.”

Tsuzuru was used to being the nerd of whatever friend group he was in at the time but this was another level. He fought the smirk and just cleared his throat. “Cool. What’s this about Michigan?”

“Josh asked me where I was from and I told him Hell. He seemed content with this answer and later, I found out he believes I came from Hell, Michigan.” Itaru pressed his fingertips together. “I see no reason why I can’t continue this joke. It’s poggers."

“Wow. Just wow, Itaru."

* * *

Taichi squirmed uncomfortably in Tenma’s car while his chauffeur drove them both to school.

“Thanks for, uh, driving me,” he said finally.

“It’s cool. Didn’t know we went to the same place.”

Taichi winced. They were in the same class last year but of course Sumeragi hadn’t noticed him. Tenma looked out the window. It was so… tense. Taichi wondered if it was rude to just open the door and tuck-roll to the sidewalk where he could walk the next few kilometers on his own.

Tenma reached under his seat and took out a bag of nuts. “You hungry?”

Always. Taichi accepted the bag thrown his way and tore off the top, pouring the entire package’s contents into his mouth. Tenma watched him.

“What?” Taichi muttered.

“Nothing. You ate a fourteen egg omelette this morning. I didn’t even know fourteen egg omelettes were possible. I guess your appetite’s just kind of crazy to see in action.”

Taichi flushed. “I can’t help it. Changeling magic is directly linked to caloric intake. If I don’t eat enough and I keep switching, I pass out.”

Tenma blinked. “For real?”

“…Is Hunter magic different? I figured it was similar since it’s physical based.”

The Sumeragi heir seemed to think for a moment. “I mean, I guess I get hungry after a hard practice session. But it’s just like going on a jog or something. ’S different.”

Taichi wondered if he should just drop the subject and not ask. But there was a part of him that genuinely wanted to know. “What’s Hunter magic like?”

“You don’t know?”

“Never had a need to. Uh… I can’t copy magic ability. Even if I look like a Hunter or a Witch I can’t use their magic. Physical only.” Taichi leaned back into the seat glumly. It was the biggest drawback that made him worthless as anything but a spy. “I never learned.”

Tenma Sumeragi went quiet for a moment. “Masumi and I have another lesson after school. You can watch.”

Taichi felt his stomach give a pang but this time not from hunger. There was something about staying inside of the Coven that made his skin crawl. “Do I gotta?”

“No. But you can if you want to. We usually grab something to eat after their drama club’s done. Go with us.”

“I can?”

“Yeah.” Tenma frowned but there was no ill will in it. “I’m usually the one to pay so might as well. You’ll put the Director into debt otherwise.”

“I don’t eat that much!”

“You do.”

“No!"

* * *

Muku was going to throw up.

Probably not, actually. Omi’s cooking was too good to waste on an upset stomach. He made strawberry jam from scratch—how could anyone not appreciate that? It was sweet and delightfully warm after he warmed it in a saucepan and basically what Muku thought happiness would taste like if happiness had a flavor.

But Muku was nervous enough to almost throw up.

“Best to get it over with, Muku,” Director chided him, giving him a light shove towards the sliding glass door. “The two of you have been avoiding each other all morning. I’m pretty sure he already knows you’re here.”

Maybe. Muku didn’t know if he was ready to face most of the Coven face-to-face yet. The way he’d left had been so shameful but Mister Citron had been the one to see just how bad it’d gotten. The Director said Mister Citron wasn’t mad at him but what if she didn’t know?

The Director gave him another push. “I’m going to yell at Citron to get in here if you don’t go first.”

“N-No! That’s okay, I can do it.” Muku took in a deep breath and wished Ju-chan was there to give him some kind of emotional support. So far, this looked like one of those experiences Muku would have to go through on his lonesome.

He walked outside. He could just see the sleeve of Mister Citron’s loose white shirt from behind the tree he liked to sit at. 

“You’re back,” he said before Muku was even in sight.

Muku stiffened. “Yes. The—trip ended early.”

“I know.”

He probably did, huh. Citron got up from the grass and turned around. He had an easy smile on like it was just another normal day. “Happy return to the Coven, Muku. Your evacuation was nice?”

“Vacation, sir. Yes.” Muku swallowed dryly. His eyes were already welling up with tears as his cheeks burned. Ah, he hated this. He wished he could say something but the words were all jumbled and stuck in his head as always. “I’m…”

Sorry? Was sorry enough? He could still remember the way Citron looked. Furious and heartbroken. It was branded into his mind and made his hands go clammy whenever he remembered it.

Citron suddenly sat back down on the grass. He gestured for Muku to do the same which he scrambled to do.

“Muku, I think we need a talk,” Citron said. He put his cup of tea down and let the smile slide off. “I am sorry for the way I reacted.”

“No! No, no, you don’t have to b-be sorry, I did something really, really bad and…” Muku’s voice cracked. “I’m just a—I’m like an apple core with a lot of worms and I know you’re trying really hard to be a good teacher but I’m just the worst student you could have had, it’s not your fault, Mister Citron, I—"

Citron cut him off with a shake of his head. “The Director made it very clear to me. No matter the circumference, hitting you was not the answer. I apologize for that and though I don’t expect forgiveness, know that I’ll never do it again.”

Muku whimpered in lieu of speaking. He scrubbed his eyes with his sleeve once and tried to not choke up. “…Circumstance, Mister Citron. Circumference is the length of a circle’s perimeter. And I do forgive you. I’m sorry."

“Thank you. There is nothing for you to be sorry for.” Citron leaned his head back to squint at the clouds above them. “I am probably very old to you, Muku. But I am only twenty-two. Most of my teachers were many decades older than me. Boomers, Yuki would say!”

In any other situation, Muku would have laughed.

Citron rolled up one pant leg and showed Muku an odd blemish across his nutty brown skin. “They thought the cane was appropriate. I had an episode similar to yours when I turned sixteen. My tutor then nearly broke a bone with how hard they hit me across my legs.”

“Oh, Mister Citron…”

Citron shook his head and let the pant leg drop down again. “It is old, have no sympathy for it. But I do not want to be that kind of teacher to you. I am not a boomer no matter how much I was acting like it. I think my…”

He waved a hand like he was trying to find the word. After half a minute of struggling, he snapped his fingers.

“My arrogance as a prodigy convinced me I would be able to teach you just fine despite my age. I have come to realize that I was wrong.” Citron smiled sadly. “I come from a long line of Seers. My blood is strong but I am not a Firstborn. I have decided to stop teaching you as a student and start teaching you as an equal. We will see where that goes.”

Muku wished he had a handkerchief. His eyes wouldn’t stop running. Citron handed him a rag like he came into this conversation prepared and knowing Muku would cry. He probably did.

He blew his nose and tried to steady his breathing. “I’m sorry.”

“No need.”

“But I am. I’m so sorry.” Muku was going to choke on his tears at this point. “I don’t even know… what I’m sorry for, I just feel… awful, and like a b-bad person.”

So Citron sat there and let him cry until he couldn’t anymore.

Muku felt a little better.

* * *

Izumi handed Tsuzuru a cup of coffee.

“Itaru has a last name now,” he said offhandedly.

“Does he?”

“Yeah, Chose it himself.”

She glanced down the hall where the demon was probably either in the lab or in his own room, and nodded. That sounded nice. “What’d he pick?”

“I don’t think he cared that much. He told me to google a list of train stations and chose one randomly. Chigasaki.”

“Cool.”

“He’s applying for a job.”

Izumi paused. She took a sip of her tea. “Should we let him?”

Tsuzuru shrugged. “I think everyone has the right to work and earn money, soul sucking demons included. Plus… Itaru’s been relatively well behaved. Giving him another thing to pour energy into sounds like a good idea.”

“Alright. Office job probably?”

Tsuzuru snickered. “I’m so ready to watch him suffer.”

“Do you remember when we first met Itaru and we were, like, terrified by him. The passage of time is crazy.”

“Speak for yourself, he still creeps me out. Have you seen his face when we’re out of snacks?”

Izumi snorted. “Oh, please. He’s just a grumpy kitty.”

The front door opened. Matsukawa came in, swaggering like he owned the place. Which, technically, he did, but the way his chin was high in the air and his mouth was sneering gave Izumi a bad feeling.

“What did you do,” she said immediately.

“That’s a very big assumption to be making!”

Izumi sighed. “Matsukawa, if you come in here and say something like you found another Firstborn Witch, I’m going to green light Tsuzuru’s resignation letter and then quit myself. We are tired. This is the first time in a while we’ve had a break so PLEASE tell me nothing’s going to happen to jeopardize that.”

Matsukawa raised his arms high. “Presenting! An alumnus of the original Mankai Coven, Yuzo Kashima!”

No one came in.

Matsukawa went back to the entryway and dragged someone in by the arm. “C’mon, Yuzo! Don’t be shy!”

“I’m not shy, you spectacled mop, I was trying to find the goddamned shoe rack.”

A middle-aged man with a scruffy goatee appeared, scowl heavy on his face. He looked at her and paused.

“Yukio’s daughter, aren’t you?” he said as his eyes narrowed.

“And current Director of Mankai Coven. That title’s a bit more important,” she said. She got up. “Coffee?”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you."

Tsuzuru kicked her under the table. “The proper title is High Priestess.”

“Whatever.”

“It took ages to track him down properly!” Matsukawa crowed. “I ran most of the alumni names through but a surprising number of them must have changed their names. And the emails are always weird—what if I email the wrong person, you know? I couldn’t just ask a magic-less if they were a previous student!”

“You were the opposite of discreet,” Yuzo snapped. “You wrote ‘hey, what if magic was real, wouldn’t that be crazy?’ I just about deleted the damn thing thinking it was spam before I recognized your last name.”

“Semantics!” Matsukawa said, waving it off. “You’re here now and that’s what matters.”

“Why is he here?” Izumi asked.

Matsukawa puffed his chest out proudly. “I figured a blast from the past would be a nice thing to have around, Director. Why not have him take a look at the students and offer his pearls of wisdom? You never know what the elderly are able to—"

“I’m forty-three!” Yuzo bellowed, smacking Matsukawa on the back of his head.

Izumi hummed a little, considering it as she poured a new cup of coffee. “How trustworthy is he?”

“Very. Yuzo’s all for helping the Coven how he can!”

Yuzo sighed drearily and took the seat at the table Izumi had just vacated. “Your… whoever this guy is has a real mouth on him. The fuck have you brats been up to? Accepting demons and mythics into the Coven. I’ve got a feeling some of the Founders would be rolling in their graves if they heard about this.”

“Good thing they’re not running the Coven and I am, then.” Izumi slammed the cup of coffee in front of him with a little more force than necessary. “Matsukawa’s the manager and the building owner. Be nice to him.”

“You’re not very nice to me,” Matsukawa pointed out.

“Yes, but all of our criticisms come from a place of love, Matsukawa. Only people in the Coven are allowed to bully you.” Izumi felt her brow twitch. “And do I even have to bring up the amount of absolute crap you’ve put me through? Wanna talk about how you didn’t register us for a full month?"

“That’s fair!”

Kamekichi swooped in and landed on top of Matsukawa’s head like his curls were a ready-to-go nest. “ _Matsukawa! Ya bum, where did you put the birdseed?_ ”

“Ahh, I’ll be right back. Don’t kill each other while I’m gone!” 

Matsukawa laughed like it was a joke but honestly, until this Yuzo guy got the seal of approval, Izumi was going to assume there was a chance she’d end up getting attacked. This city had lowered her expectations a lot.

“Times are changing, aren’t they,” Yuzo murmured.

“They sure are but we’re keeping on top of it.”

Tsuzuru frowned. “I don’t think I know your last name. Kashima, right? I mean, if you were a student at the Coven I guess it’d make sense you didn’t come from a Bloodline but… I’m guessing you’re a Caster.”

“Witch. Secondborn and half but my mom passed when I was young. Coven was all I had to teach me." Yuzo chuckled dryly. “Hardly matters now. Lost my magic almost twenty years ago.”

Coffee splattered on the table as Tsuzuru coughed viciously, spewing up on the table. Yuzo scotched back to avoid the splash zone.

“Lost your magic?” Izumi asked, horrified.

Yuzo frowned at her. “You don’t know? You sacrifice your magic when you summon an angel.”

* * *

“Kaaaazuuuuu.”

Kazunari paused on the street and glanced up. Misumi was hanging from his knees on a branch overhead, waving at him.

“Did your classes finish?” he asked brightly.

“Just about. How long did you wait for me?” 

Misumi swung himself up, sitting properly. “Not long! You should climb too. It’s nice up here.”

“Sumi, you’re totes limited edition. I don’t think I can climb it, there isn’t much to have a grip on.”

Misumi seemed to think about this for a moment before he dropped down, landing nimbly on the balls of his feet like a cat. “That’s fair! I’ll teach you some time. It’s real easy when you get the hang of it!”

Kazunari could only laugh. Misumi rummaged around in his hoodie pocket and took out a stuffed triangle doll he was very fond of. 

“Can you do the thing again?” he asked with a grin.

There probably wasn’t a soul on the planet that could say no to a smile like that. Kazunari ran his fingertip along Mr. Triangle’s weird, floppy arm. A few Runes later and Mr. Triangle tottered up onto his nubby legs and did a small dance. Misumi’s eye gleamed as he danced along, still cupping his doll in his hands like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“I could teach you how to do it on your own, you know,” Kazunari said. “It’s pretty easy!”

“No… I don’t think I should.” Misumi didn’t look at him. “Plus! It’s a really good reason to see you. You don’t come to the Coven a lot anymore so I miss seeing you.”

Kazunari winced. “I mean—I come to the birthday parties, haha. And whenever someone needs me.”

“Mmmm. Not the same!” The magic ran out quickly and Mr. Triangle dropped, lifeless once more. Misumi tucked him back into his pocket. “Kazu, have you thought about what I said?”

“Sumi, I’m not a kid and I’m not a Firstborn. I can’t join the Coven.”

Misumi’s cheeks puffed out. “Yes, you can! I’m nineteen but Director lets me stick around.”

“There’s a lotta Witch magic you don’t know about since, you know,” Kazunari tapped a finger to his temple. “And it’s good that you have a place to stay now! But, like, there’s really no reason.”

“You could teach!”

Kazunari snorted and jostled Misumi with an elbow. “Tsuzuroon’s a special case, dude. Director got him on board since there aren’t any other Witches willing to teach. What would they do with two Casters?”

“Double Mr. Triangle dances!”

Bright side to anything if you tried hard enough. Kazunari shrugged his backpack onto another shoulder as Misumi looped their elbows together in a link. 

“Do you wanna head somewhere?” Kazunari asked. “There’s probably a nice triangle-y art exhibition we can check out. But you have to promise me you won’t try to take something from it again, we almost got arrested last time!” 

Misumi hummed a little. “What do you wanna do?”

“Anything you wanna!”

“Kazu… did I do something to make you mad?”

Kauznari immediately stopped and his palms onto both of Misumi’s cheeks, smushing them until his lips puckered. “What?! What are you talking about! No, of course not.”

Misumi pouted as best as he could given the shape his face had been forced to take. He shrugged Kazunari’s hands off to make his sad face freely. “I feel like you’ve been… I don’t know. There’s something different. I just… wanna make sure that we’re still best friends. We are, aren’t we?”

Kazunari hung his head and sighed. “Sumi… Yeah, of course we are. Sorry, man, things have just been weird recently. I’m just in a bit of a funk. Didn’t know you could tell, I thought I was doing a good job of managing it!”

He flinched when hands reached forward to tug at the corners of his lips, first bringing them up into a smile, down into a frown, then up again.

“You do this thing when you force yourself to smile,” Misumi noted. “Your face is happy but your eyes look a little… Tired.”

Something in the back of Kazunari’s mind hissed, tugging wildly. Yelling at him to get his act together, to stop making people concerned for no good reason. There was a standard of behavior and if people could look through that… He almost laughed. If people could see through that much, then there wouldn’t be a point in avoiding just Muku, right? He’d have to avoid everyone at that point.

“I’m fine, Sumi, school’s just getting tough.” He pushed the Witch down the street. “Let’s go to the Coven or something! Day left until Mukkun’s back, we might as well. Think the Director has a snack for us?”

“Yaaaaay, fruit snacks!”

“I’ll give you all my watermelons.”

“They’re shaped like triangles!”

“I know, Sumi.”

* * *

“You summoned an angel?” Tsuzuru hissed. “Good grief, does every generation of this Coven naturally gravitate towards black magic?”

Yuzo shrugged. “A friend got sick. A blessing was the only way to save him. His brats and every descendant should be groveling in my name forever, but what had to be done had to be done.”

Tsuzuru sat back and rubbed his forehead. “Giving up magic… God.”

“Hold on,” Izumi piped up. “You—graduated from here, right? Ignoring the angel business for now, although we should get back to that because what in the world is wrong with you, have you ever heard of a quest given to eighteen year old Firstborns?”

Yuzo cocked his head to the side. “Uh, no. But I can’t give you a solid answer on that, I left early after about three years. I was sixteen? Didn’t really see a future for myself in magic society so I sank amongst the magic-less.”

Tsk. No help then.

“So? What students have you got.”

Izumi shook the thoughts on conspiracy away. “Ah? What was that?”

“I said what’s your student roster? And the official one, not whatever bullshit you fed to the Council to keep this place afloat.” Yuzo glanced at the room Matsukawa had disappeared into. “That manager of yours made it clear there was more than just the four you have written up.”

Right.

Izumi cleared her throat and started counting off on her fingers. “The four official students… well, five now, I suppose, with Taichi. He’s a changeling we discovered working for Mayor Reni. Managed to get him out of there and enroll within the Coven instead.”

“Changelings aren’t real.”

“We are well over that discussion,” Tsuzuru said flatly. “Trust me.”

Yuzo raised an eyebrow but bid Izumi to continue.

"Then you have the three Firstborns. Sakuya, Masumi, Muku, uh, Witch, Hunter, Seer in that order. Then we have Yuki who’s a brownie. We haven’t had a lot of time to go over his own lessons but he said he’s working on a project in secret so we’ve elected to leave him be for now.”

“And?”

Izumi winced. “We have a second Witch, Misumi. Amnesiac without a family to fall back on and all he seems to know besides the bare basics is black magic. We let him stay here on the grounds that the Council doesn’t find out about him and that he doesn’t use black magic anymore.”

“How old?”

“Nineteen.”

“Nineteen?” Yuzo snapped. “He’s too old for this damned place, magicians are supposed to graduate from the Coven when they’re eighteen.”

Irritation flared in her chest. “So I’m just supposed to toss him to the streets? He’s still a boy, he has nowhere to go. As a Coven, we extend a hand to help him get to a place.”

“You’re a damned school, not an orphanage. Whether he makes it or not isn’t your damned responsibility.”

“That might have been the kind of Coven my father ran but it sure as hell isn’t going to be my Coven,” Izumi said just a hair from yelling. “This isn’t something up for conversation. Mankai Coven is mine now and I call the shots.”

Yuzo clicked his tongue. “Any more brats?”

“Banri. Blessed magic user, rogue necromancer. He doesn’t stay in the building but he pops by most days after school for a lesson or two.” There was actually a whole lot about Banri and how necessary it was to keep an eye on him but Izumi didn’t think this was the time to launch into her monologue.

Yuzo leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Teachers besides you and whoever this emaciated beanpole is.”

“I am average weight!” Tsuzuru yelped.

“Tenma Sumeragi’s our current Hunter instructor.”

The ex-Witch whistled. “You got a Sumeragi on board? That family’s firm as hell on no outsiders.”

“Omi Fushimi. He works for the underground police but, uh, circumstances forced him to work with us for now. He’s in the back doing laundry.”

“Hunter?”

Izumi clamped her lips shut. Yuzo gave her an uncompromising glare. “I said I want to know about everything.”

“Werewolf.”

Yuzo stood up angrily.

“You let a werewolf work here?” he bellowed. “There are fuckin’ kids here, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Tsuzuru pointed a shaking finger like he was so insulted, he couldn’t control his nerves. “No. How dare you. Sit down, Mister Kashima, I draw the line at badmouthing Omi. He has been _nothing_ but a model citizen and the only breeze of fresh air in this maelstrom of absolute madness in this Coven.”

“ _You’re_ a fucking Minagi, _you_ should know exactly what kind of shit werewolves get into,” Yuzo hissed.

“And times are changing! Stereotypes and prejudices are the only thing that pipeline into that fate!” Tsuzuru slapped a palm to his forehead. “God, maybe you’re right, Director. Old people really do fill our heads with nothing but nonsense.”

“I’m not old!”

Citron shuffled in and grabbed a large bottle of Oolong tea from the fridge.

Izumi raised a hand. “Citron, do you want to meet—"

“No!” he said cheerfully. “This is actually a conversation I do not think I would enjoy being in!”

He disappeared again.

“And who the hell was that?” Yuzo asked, taking a seat again. “Jesus, this place is a mess.”

“That’s Citron. Seer from overseas.”

“You brought a goddamned Seer from across the ocean to teach here?”

Oh, god, that was—Izumi didn’t even know where to start with that one but that sounded a lot better than the truth. So she just shrugged noncommittally and let the conversation keep running.

“You know about Itaru… I guess aside from Kazunari popping in here and there to help us out, that’s the whole Coven.”

Tsuzuru elbowed her. “Ghost.”

“Ah. We have a half-wraith floating around sometimes too.”

A vein popped out in Yuzo’s temple. “And would you mind telling me what a ‘half-wraith’ is?”

Izumi shrugged. “Muku’s cousin. Juza turns into a wraith whenever there’s a situation that calls for it. He slips back into a ghost afterwards.”

“That’s not possible.”

“There’s a _lot_ of ‘not possible’ we’re discovering nowadays that is actually quite possible. Wild, I know.”

Yuzo sighed. “God damn.”

“Anything you think you can do to help?” she pleaded. “There’s a little less than a month before Sakuya’s quest hits. I’m going off of the books and whatever vague lesson plans I could find in the Coven’s archives but I’m not sure if that’s going to be enough. What did the Founders teach you when you were a Witch here?”

Yuzo didn’t say anything for a moment. He sipped his coffee again and flicked a speck of dust off of his jeans.

“You have a place to test big spells in?” Yuzo said finally.

Tsuzuru preened a little, already proud and excited to show off. “We have a fortified enlarged room.”

“You’re gonna need a wide open enclosure.”

Izumi was getting frustrated. “That’s asking a lot since we’re in the city and all…”

Yuzo clicked his tongue again. “I want to meet the students and see where all of ‘em are. Depending on where they stand, I have a small place at Yamagata that’ll work. The Coven can go there for a week to cram.”

Tsuzuru raised his eyebrows. “Like a training camp?”

“If you want to call it that.”

Izumi hesitated. “Dunno if we have the funds available right off the bat for that kind of trip though.”

“Huh? Why don’t you just use the Athenaeum’s travel system?” Yuzo said with a furrowed brow.

Tsuzuru closed his eyes. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“The Atheneum has a _travel system?_ ” Izumi spluttered in disbelief.

“It’s been out of use for the past ten years,” Tsuzuru muttered. “You already know damn well why.”

Izumi was either going to have this city flourish or burn it to the ground herself.

She laced her fingers together and leaned her forehead on them, taking in a deep breath. “Looks like the grace period’s over."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enter Yuzo! Hooray! And thus we approach the Quest Arc!


	35. Build Something on the Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE BEEN ABLE TO RELAX AND WORK ON COVEN... Taking a seat and wrapping myself up in this fic was like hugging an old friend. Thank you for being so patient with me!
> 
> Content warnings: underaged drinking but just barely

Muku and Citron sat side by side under the shade of the tree, eyes shut and legs crossed. 

“I tried scrying,” Muku said off-handedly. 

Citron didn’t say anything at first. “Did you?” 

“Mhm. It worked.” 

The meditation stopped immediately. Citron opened his eyes, brows meeting in the center with a crease. “It _worked_?”

“Yeah!”

Citron stared at him some more and then laughed in disbelief. “I feel as though I should stop being surprised but that is very, _very_ incredible. Scrying… I do not think I can do it easily even now.”

Muku unfolded his legs and stretched them out. “It was… um, it wasn’t easy. My eyes hurt a lot after and—and it kept going out of focus. But it definitely worked! Is that a good thing?”

“A very good thing. Very advanced.” Citron shook his head and seemed to think about something deeply. Muku glanced at his teacher and hoped to catch a glimpse of what was going on in Citron’s thoughts but they were going too quickly to understand. “Come with me, Muku.”

The two of them got up, paying a quick wave of respect towards Monica as she ruffled her feathers to bid them goodbye, and went back inside the Coven.

“Who’s that?” Muku whispered as they went into the living room.

The man sitting at the kitchen table looked at him point-blank and Muku fought the urge to hide behind Citron.

“Shouldn’t he be in school?” he asked.

“Muku, Citron, this is Yuzo Kashima, one of the alumni of Mankai Coven before they closed,” the Director introduced. “Yuzo, this is Muku and Citron, the two Seers.”

“N-Nice to meet you!” Muku said quickly before bowing.

“Firstborn Seer’s a rare one to see.” Yuzo nodded once. “Dunno if I ever met one during my time here.”

“Director, could we borrow Tsuzuru for a moment?” Citron asked, resting a hand on the Caster’s shoulder.

Izumi waved a hand. “Sure, Yuzo and I are going to have to talk logistics for a while. Don’t forget to feed him if he gets hungry.”

“I'm not a cat,” Tsuzuru snapped but followed Citron to his room nevertheless. “Citron, what the _heck_. Do you ever clean up in here?”

“Sometimes!” Citron said brightly. He used a foot to shove aside a stray crushed juice box on the floor. “Tsuzuru, could you take the seat on a bed?”

Tsuzuru sat and narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on.”

“Just a test. I want you to relax.”

“ _Relax?_ ”

“I know you are not the type, but please try.”

“It’s hard to relax when you’re a college student involved in an arguably illegal organization closely tied to the government but what do I know?” Tsuzuru closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “Citron, do you foresee an ulcer in my future?”

Citron laughed but didn’t immediately say no which made Tsuzuru feel a little worse. “Tsuzuru, take in deep breaths and try to let your mind drift.”

“Okay, Citron, let me make one thing blindingly clear. When you tell me to do that, my instinct is to immediately go on fight-or-flight mode.”

“Tsuzuru.”

“Right. Fine.” Tsuzuru took in a deep breath and tried to get his tense shoulders to go limp. It was difficult to force himself to calm down.

“Muku,” Citron murmured. “Read my thoughts.”

“Huh?”

“Do what I tell you to do.”

“R-Right!”

Muku pursed his lips until they hurt, trying to zone in on Mister Citron’s thoughts. It was easier than most, probably because Citron knew how to organize his thoughts to “send them” better. Citron took a few steps back until he was aside, against the wall. Muku pushed his desk chair over to sit directly across from Tsuzuru.

“Tsuzuru,” he began slowly. “Can you, um, open your eyes?”

_Confidence, Muku. You need to sound confident._

_Sorry!_

Muku steeled his nerves as Tsuzuru met his gaze.

“Tsuzuru,” Muku said, tilting his head to the side and smiling. “How are you feeling today?”

“Tired. As always.”

“Probably, right? You always work so hard. It would be nice to take a break.”

Tsuzuru frowned. He rubbed the back of his neck when he felt something like a fly tickling it. Nothing was there. He drew his attention back to Muku. “Uh… yeah.”

Muku glanced at Citron. Nodded once.

“Say, Tsuzuru… What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh… uh…” Tsuzuru frowned deeper. What had just happened to his vision? It felt… blurry somehow. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, trying to focus. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t have to be alert, it’s fine,” Muku reassured him, eyes open wider. The blue of his iris were like two deep ponds. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Stir-fried noodles? I don’t know. What are you _doing?_ I don’t like being a lab rat.” Tsuzuru stood up and then immediately sat back down again as his knees felt like they were locked and rusty, too rusty to function properly. “I don’t…”

“Tsuzuru,” Muku repeated. “Are you tired?”

“ _Yes,_ I’m tired, I’m always tired.”

“Don’t you want to relax?”

“I don’t…” Did he? Did Tsuzuru want to relax? His shoulders drooped further. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Muku’s eyes went warm and soupy. “That’s good. You should relax.”

“Okay.”

Warm cotton wrapped around his arms and legs like a cozy blanket. Tsuzuru tried to remember what was going on but couldn’t seem to put a finger on it exactly. But that was fine. He didn’t have to find the exact reasoning for everything.

“In this moment, you’re completely relaxed. You’re at ease.”

“Yeah.”

He was. Tsuzuru’s eyelids slowly sank until they were nearly shut. His body felt heavy, like he was in desperate need of a nap.

Muku’s eyes suddenly flared. “ _Drop_.”

And Tsuzuru dropped.

* * *

Muku stood up. “W-What’s wrong with him?”

Citron put a hand on top of Tsuzuru’s head. His eyes were just barely opened, completely unfocused as they stared at the ground. “He’s a tramp.”

“Trance, sir.”

“Yes, trance. In a trance!” Citron chuckled softly. “Profound. It has only been a few months since we’ve started on your lessons, has it not? Firstborns are terrifying, it seems.”

“Can _you_ do that, Mister Citron?” Muku asked.

“Well… it takes a lot of energy, but yes. I recommend not doing this in front of Sakyo.”

Muku tensed up. “W-Why? Is this bad?”

Citron hummed a little like he was trying to remember the word. “Something about cars.”

“Cars?”

“Auto repair?”

The two of them stared at each other, Citron trying to figure out what he wanted to say and Muku hanging onto each clue desperately. The older Seer snapped his fingers when he finally managed to pin it down. “Autonomy! The ability to make your own choices. To be in control of your actions. We removed that."

“ _Mind control?_ ” Muku gasped.

“Not exactly but something like that.” Citron waved his hand over Tsuzuru’s eyes and got no reaction. “Tsuzuru, can you hear me?”

The Caster nodded very slowly.

Citron smiled. “He is very susceptible to influence right now.”

“Is this… right?” Muku whispered uncomfortably.

“Ah.” He waved the concern off. “Do not be scared, Muku. You would not be able to do this to many other people. Tsuzuru was a good test because he already trusts us. Others will have their guard up and be much, much more difficult to bring down like this. Lift the trance.”

“H-How do I do that…?”

“Command it.”

Muku grimaced and felt his stomach cramp. The idea of _commanding_ people to do anything never sat well with him. Even in all his daydreams of being a prince, he never thought he would command people. Just… be regal, and be helpful, and lead a nice kingdom with nice people.

“Tsuzuru, wake up,” Muku said.

Nothing happened.

“You have to _command_ it, Muku.”

“W-Wake up!”

Tsuzuru’s head snapped up. He blinked a few times as his eyes shifted into focus once more. “Oh. What were you saying? Sorry, I zoned out for a second there.”

The Caster glanced at Citron and then Muku once more. “Why are you guys just looking at me?”

“No reason, Tsuzuru,” Citron said soothingly. He helped him to his feet and towards the door. “That will do. Thank you very much.”

Tsuzuru frowned deeply but let himself be led out. “You Seers never stop being weird, do you?”

“Aha! Possibly.” Citron paused and then smiled at Muku over his shoulder. “You may want to hide.”

“Huh? W-Why?” Muku gasped as a thought hit him. “A hitman?! Is a hitman after me? B-But I’m not even involved in a gang or a corrupt government scheme, WHO WOULD SEND A HITMAN AFTER ME?”

“Worse than a hitman, Muku!”

They could hear the front door bang open and someone run in.

“Banri?!” Director squawked. “What are you doing here? You have school for another two hours!”

“Skipped.”

“WE’VE DISCUSSED YOU SKIPPING CLASS—”

“Is he back?”

“Is _who_ back? Banri? Banri, you get back over here right now!”

Citron hummed and pushed Tsuzuru harder. “I’m going to hide in your lab for a bit, Tsuzuru!”

The second Citron and a spluttering Tsuzuru left the room, Banri stood at the threshold, panting.

“You’re back,” he snarled. “You pink fuckin’ _asshole_.”

Muku shut his eyes. “I-If you’re r-r-really going to k-kick my teeth in like you p-promised… please do it quickly and get it over with.”

He waited for the painful impact and yelped when, instead, Banri grabbed him around his middle and hauled him over his shoulder, carrying him fireman style.

“BANRI? BANRI, PUT ME DOWN!”

“What are you _doing?_ ” Director asked as she stared at them from the kitchen.

“I’m borrowing this fucking geek for a bit,” Banri snapped. “I’ll bring him back.”

Yuzo still was yet to say a word but he looked a mixture of confused and amused. 

“PLEASE DON’T SELL MY ORGANS ON THE BLACK MARKET!” Muku bawled as his eyes teared up. “BANRI, I’M SORRY FOR LYING TO YOU!”

“You’re _going_ to be fucking sorry, that’s for sure.” Banri dug into his pocket with a free hand, hoisting Muku’s weight to one shoulder, and slammed the Swear Jar fee on the kitchen table for the Director.

“You be nice to him,” she said firmly. “If Muku comes back upset, I’m going to have you planting an entire field’s worth of string beans.”

“Whatever.”

“HELP MEEEEE!” Muku cried as Banri carried him out to the courtyard.

He was shaking until Banri plopped him down none too gently onto grass. Muku curled up, ready to be kicked in the face but all that came was the sound of Banri plopping down next and crossing his legs.

“So?” he snapped.

Muku cracked open one eye and sniffled. He wiped his nose. “H-Huh?”

“You owe me for that break in. You owe me _so_ fuckin’ much. This is what you do with that weirdo, isn’t it?” Banri gestured to the courtyard. “Sit on the grass and talk about feelings and shit while you guys drink tea or whatever. Lame, by the way.”

It was Banri, after all, but Muku sincerely couldn’t follow a thing that was happening. “What are you—?”

“Teach me how to See,” Banri said as he drew his eyebrows together in determination. “Ghosts, specifically. Teach me right now.”

“I…” Muku stared at Banri slack jawed. He slowly sat up, trying to get his wobbly knees crossed. “I don’t… know how to teach Seer magic, Banri.”

He raised a fist. “You either teach me or I beat the ever-loving shit out of you and summon your cousin wraith-mode the hard way.”

“Eep!”

“Yeah. Get started, pipsqueak. Seer 101’s on whether you have a degree or not.”

Muku hesitated again and glanced at the sliding glass door. No one else could see him, of course, but Ju-chan stood there with a hand pressed against the glass. Or pretending to press against the glass. Just watching them.

He shrugged helplessly. _Do you think I should, Ju-chan?_

His cousin didn’t move or react immediately. But after a moment, a moment filled with noises of Banri continuing to spout threats and angry curses, Ju-chan made a weird face. The corner of his lips twitched, either in the barest smile or frown (Muku couldn’t tell) and then he lowered his chin in a single nod.

* * *

“He won’t be able to,” Citron mused as he gazed out the window.

Tsuzuru frowned at his notes. “He won’t be able to what? Who won’t be able to?”

“Banri wishes to be a Seer.”

“Oh.” Tsuzuru scratched out a note. If they were going to go somewhere for a training camp, he’d have to get a Rune sequence that repelled magithetical drafted earlier than he’d thought. “Why not?”

“Seers need empathy.”

“Banri must have some empathy.”

“Eh…” Citron squinted at his student trying to teach another. “Not much. Not yet. He will need to dig deeper. Banri is a very twisted person.”

“You make him sound like a hardened criminal.”

Citron shrugged. “The potential is there. We will work to make sure it is untapped.”

Tsuzuru scoffed.

* * *

“We’re back!” Sakuya called.

The four high school students trickled in, tan uniforms and green, to see someone entirely new lounging in the living room. Taichi immediately took a step back and inched behind Tenma, the current tallest in the small group and the perfect makeshift human shield.

“And so the ragtag magicians appear,” the man mused.

The Director popped out of the office, a stack of files in her arms. She plopped them all down in front of the newcomer and stretched back, cracking her spine. “Hey, kids. School alright? Anyone want snacks?”

“School was… fine.” Sakuya hesitated. “Director, who is this?”

“ _This_ is Yuzo Kashima, a graduate from the old Mankai Coven.” Izumi clapped a hand on Yuzo’s shoulder, forcing him to sit up. “He says he’s got a thing or two he could help you all out with so we’re gonna have to show him what we’ve got.”

“ _Maybe_ ,” Yuzo snapped. “I said I maybe _might_ be able to help you.”

“Whatever.”

Sakuya cringed so hard, Tenma wondered if his jaw was going to crack.

“Director, am I ready?” he asked softly.

Izumi’s eyes went gentle like she was watching a scared newborn fawn take trembling steps into the world. “Yeah. Don’t stress out about it, Sakuya, think of this as just a mock exam before the actual big event. We’ll work hard to pinpoint where it is exactly we’ll be able to help you best, and go from there!”

Yuzo’s frown deepened somehow, reaching a new level of wrinkled. “Is this how you’ve been treating him?”

“Like what?”

“You’ve swaddled the damn lad.”

Izumi’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“He’s eighteen and about to embark on a quest that has the entire future of the Coven on the line.” Yuzo stood up and sighed. “Your father would have had a fit if he saw you acting like this.”

“My _father’s_ been gone for the past few years,” Izumi barked. “I’m the one here now and I’m planning on nurturing them to become the best magicians they can be.”

“What they need is a teacher, Tachibana, not a nurturer.”

“Oh, so what, I can’t be both?”

He sneered. “I can’t see how you can be good at both.”

Tenma rubbed his forehead. “Hey. Can you guys not? You’re just like my parents, this is becoming annoying.”

Yuzo rolled his eyes and strolled down the hall, hands in the pockets of his baseball jersey. “You said you had a training room, didn’t you? Let me see what your brat’s capable of.”

Izumi glared at his back before whipping her head towards Sakuya’s direction.

“Kiddo,” she said in a low voice. “Show him everything you’ve got.”

“Director, I still don’t have all of the spells down pat,” Sakuya whispered in a dull panic. “I-I’m not sure if—“”

“I want you to burn that GD goatee of his off with how much magic you pour out. We’re going for the shock factor more than refinement right now with the way he’s looking down on you.” Izumi squinted, shooting a judgmental look at Yuzo’s back once more. “And dunno if you’re aware but you’ve got more than enough Wow to blow him away. You’ve got this in the bag.”

Sakuya wrung his hands and dropped his bag on the floor.

Masumi kneed him once.

“Just do it,” he said flatly.

“But I…”

Masumi pushed Sakuya forward. “I’m bored. Get it over with.”

“Masumi!”

“I’m going out to the courtyard,” Taichi muttered. “New people make me nervous as heck. Tell me when he’s gone.”

“Do you want a bag of fruit snacks?” Izumi asked as she reached for the bowl of prepackaged snack baggies.

He held his hand out and caught it as it was tossed to him before splitting.

* * *

Taichi entered the courtyard ready to be alone with just Monica, who obviously didn’t _speak_ which suited him just fine.

He took one look at Banri and Muku sitting across from each other in the grass and wondered if it was alright to just start crying.

“You have to try _harder_ ,” Muku urged him.

“I’M TRYING AS HARD AS I CAN, ASSHOLE.”

“Banri, it’s like… you have to squint and _feel_ Ju-chan’s presence.”

“Fuuuuuuck you, that shit’s fucking dumb as hell.”

Muku sighed quietly. “Okay. Okay, just… let’s go from the top. I want you to look around you and feel the magic, like, rush through your body. It’s kind of like pins and needles, a-and it took me a long time to really get a hang of it.”

A tense second passed before Banri suddenly collapsed, slapping his hands over his eyes as a filthy stream of curse words flooded out of his mouth.

“FUCK!” he bellowed. “OH _FUCK_ , MY EYES!”

Muku squeaked and scrambled to his knees. “Banri?! What happened?”

“FUUUUUUUCK YOU!”

Banri tore his hands away and even Taichi grimaced, taking a step back, at the sight of his red eyes. A vessel had popped, staining both his eyeballs a deep crimson.

“Oh _no_ ,” Muku whispered.

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

“C-Can you even see me?”

Banri let out a roar and leapt, hands outstretched for Muku’s throat.

“NO! NO, I’M SORRY! NOOOOO!”

Taichi scotched away and beelined for the entryway instead. He crashed into someone the second he took a step out.

“Whoa! Changeling bro?” Kazunari asked as he stumbled a few steps. Misumi righted him before they both went careening towards the ground.

Taichi seized Misumi by his arm. “You fly?”

“Yeah! Flying rules!”

“Good. Get us somewhere far from here, please.”

Misumi frowned. “Why? I like home.”

“Blessed. And, uh, Muku.”

Kazunari’s face fell. “He’s back early? Oof. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet, Sumi.”

Misumi set his mouth into a very straight line and seemed to think deeply. He clapped his hands.

“Let’s go to the park!” Misumi cheered. “I have a few friends there. We’ll come back when we need food!”

Taichi needed food constantly but maybe the fruit snacks would keep him from being wholly famished for a while longer. “Anything but here.”

“We can walk there!"

* * *

“What spells have you got down?” Yuzo asked, arms crossed and a single eyebrow lifted.

Sakuya twitched. “Lightning.”

He could do lightning no problem. During the zombies, during Banri’s little inquisition. He could do it again. Right?

“Let’s see it.”

Sakuya threw a cautious look at Masumi, Tenma, and the Director, all huddled in the corner of the room. Izumi threw up both of her thumbs.

“You’ve got this,” she mouthed.

He took in a deep breath and spread his feet. Heat built in his wrist the moment he threw his palm out. For a split second, he could almost see Misumi’s wide smile and tousled, wind-blown hair.

“ _Hold it,_ ” Misumi said as he hung upside down. “ _Then let it go like WAPPOW!_ ”

Sakuya clenched his teeth until the magic felt like a hot brand on his flesh. Golden sparks flew from his fingertips as electricity begged to be released and wreck havoc.

_BOOM._

Yuzo let out an ugly swear that Director _definitely_ would have given him grief for had the noise of the lightning not drowned it out. A massive bolt of gold, so bright it turned nearly white, burst out of his hands and rampaged across the entire room until blasting the wall opposite of them. The building shook a little.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Tenma muttered as he inched back from the sudden scorching heat. “I knew he could do that but this is ridiculous.”

Masumi looked away. “Tch. Whatever.”

And Izumi…

Izumi slowly covered her mouth with her palms. She wasn’t sure why she did it, her mouth hadn’t moved at all. But it was a small comfort she let herself have. Itaru had said, all those weeks ago, that Sakuya had learned lightning. She’d never seen it before but this was… Tenma had it right. Absolutely _ridiculous_. It was one thing for a Witch to be able to summon fire. It was another thing entirely for them to create mass destruction at simple will.

A shiver of pride ran through the length of her spine.

The heat slowly slipped away. In the ensuing silence, Sakuya looked at Yuzo like he was unsure of what he’d done.

“Was that alright?” he asked quietly.

Yuzo pursed his lips and nodded just once. “Adequate.”

“Adequate?!” Izumi snapped.

“Levitation,” he ordered. “On an object first, then yourself next.”

He rummaged into his pockets and took out a little beanbag, tossing it onto the floor. Sakuya flicked his finger and the beanbag shot into the air like it’d been fired from a cannon. 

“I’ve never tried levitation on myself before,” he admitted before spreading his arms. “Um… is it possible?”

It was technically possible, Izumi thought to herself. It was a massive outpour of energy, probably why Misumi preferred using it on a rake than himself. If anyone in the Coven could do it though, it _would_ be Sakuya.

He took in a deep breath, chest expanding, and then pushed his hands down.

“HELP,” Sakuya yelped as he flew up. His feet kicked wildly and wailed again as he spun out of control. “WAIT, WHICH WAY IS DOWN?"

Masumi took out his phone and snapped a picture of the Witchling, suspended and flailing way overhead. Thank god the room had such high ceilings.

“Do I get him?” Tenma asked.

Izumi chuckled. She couldn’t help it. “Yeah, if you can. Looks like he needs a hand.”

Tenma shrugged his blazer off and took a running start. He leapt high towards a wall and kicked off of it, gaining another leg up. He reached but came short of contact with Sakuya by a few feet. He clicked his tongue and then hit the ground on the balls of his feet, ducking into a small somersault to break the impact.

“He’s too high up,” Tenma admitted.

Masumi rolled his eyes. “We could see that.”

“Shut up! Just give me a leg up.”

“Annoying.”

“Masumi, just do it, Sakuya’s going to get motion sick if we leave him up there,” Izumi said.

He melted a little. “Anything for you.”

“Oh my God, kid, you’re going to give me a headache.”

“Love headache?”

“ _What_ is a love headache? You know what, don’t care, just do what I told you.”

Masumi went down on one knee and laced his fingers together, creating a little pocket for Tenma to step onto. Tenma put one foot into the slot, tensing. Masumi heaved, launching his mentor into the air like he was throwing a bag of potatoes.

“Stop _flailing!_ ” Tenma snapped as Sakuya accidentally backhanded him across his jaw. He seized Sakuya around his midsection, using their combined weight to sink through the air.

“Thank you,” Sakuya gasped. “Yikes, I’m _never_ doing that again.”

Yuzo gaped at the both of them, then at Masumi and Izumi, then back to the two boys making their descent back to where gravity wanted them to be. All the while, the beanbag had managed to hit the ceiling at that point.

“You’re all _used_ to this shit?” he said at last.

Izumi snapped her fingers at him. “Language, old man. We’ve dealt with a lot so far.”

He hesitated for a moment. “Does he know a light spell?”

“I can do it!” Sakuya said immediately as his feet finally hit the ground. He raised his hands.

“NO!” Izumi bellowed. “SAKUYA, NO!”

He dropped his hands. “Oh… Right.”

“Health hazard,” she explained quickly when Yuzo opened his mouth to argue. “The last time Sakuya did a light spell, I went blind for about twenty minutes. We absolutely can’t test a light spell unless we wear eye protection.”

The ex-Witch stared at them all again at a complete loss for words.

“That good enough for you?” Izumi asked him. “Still think I’m coddling them too much?”

Yuzo took the moment to just breathe.

“Three days,” he said at last. “We leave in three days. The kid lacks refinement but that comes through physical exercise.”

“Physical?” Izumi asked.

“ _Exercise?_ ” Sakuya muttered more to himself than anybody else as he rubbed his arm.

“A proper, healthy body is the best channel for magic. Give him a week at my place in Yamagata and it’ll help with the control factor.”

Izumi hesitated. Something in her eyes glinted—almost evil, if she had the ability to be evil. “How big is this, uh, place you’ve got?”

“A few rooms. Why do you ask?” Yuzo froze as the question left his lips. “You are _not_ going to bring the entire Coven. Absolutely not. That’s off the table so don’t even bother trying.”

* * *

Citron cleared his throat. “Six seconds.”

Tsuzuru took his safety goggles off. “Six seconds? Until what?”

Izumi Tachibana kicked the door open.

“BOYS, WE’RE GOING ON A VACATION!”

* * *

“Sumi, are these… your friends you mentioned?” Kazunari asked as he crouched beside him.

Misumi gently scratched a squirrel beneath its chin. “Mhm! This family in particular is really nice. Sometimes, when I was hungry, they’d let me take a few nuts from their storage. I mean, just like one or two, I don’t think they know that my stomach’s bigger than theirs. But it’s still nice of them.”

Taichi stood a few meters away from them, hands buried deep in his pockets like if he tried hard enough, he’d be able to disappear in them. Did he have a lot of friends to compare Misumi and Kazunari to? No. But did he get the sense that this wasn’t totally normal? Yeah.

“This is my friend Kazunari,” Misumi introduced softly as the squirrel took a little leap into the Witch’s lap. “He’s really good at drawing. And he’s my best friend.”

The squirrel, being a squirrel, ignored Kazunari and seemed more intent on trying to find purchase into Misumi’s sweatshirt pocket.

Misumi turned around and gave Taichi a big smile.

“Come say hi, Taichi!” he said.

“Um…” Taichi took a step forward and waved awkwardly to the rodent. “Hi.”

Misumi dug the squirrel out and held it gently in his palms. “That’s Taichi. He can turn into animals and people. He’s pretty cool and he’s a new friend.”

_Friend?_

The Coven was so weird. So, so weird. Friend? He’d tried to sell them down the river for brownie points. He’d lied to them, he’d played a major role in their potential downfall. One signed roster later and they were suddenly all _friends?_ What kind of absolute bullshit was that?

“Michi said he’ll take you into the burrow if you ever want to see it,” Misumi told him as the squirrel squeaked.

Taichi cleared his throat and started nudging at the ground with the toe of his shoe. “I shouldn’t. Uh, changing makes me tired and hungry. I’d probably eat the entire kitchen if I did stuff like that unnecessarily.”

“Ehhh, really? That’s okay, though! We have lots and lots of rice.”

Kazunari elbowed Misumi. “Lots of rice for rice balls, right?”

“Triangles, Kazu!”

“I know!”

Weird. Weird. It was _weird_.

Taichi couldn’t remember a thing from Misumi’s file that he’d held in his hands during the debrief but there probably hadn’t been a mention of his interest in triangles. He would have remembered being shocked and confused by it, right?

The Witch cooed to the squirrel in his hands and something ugly yanked at Taichi’s arteries. Didn’t they have _shame?_ Fear? Who could just so brazenly, openly present something weird like having an obsession with triangles and not crumble at the thought of being judged for it? What kind of latent confidence did that take? Did it come with power?

Did everything come from power?

He curled his fingers into fists so tightly, his knuckles ached. His fingernails bit into his palms.

The Coven was warm. The Coven was nice.

Omi didn’t mind cooking a lot. Sakuya was always willing to chat. Tenma offered him rides when he needed it.

They were _nice_. They were—kind. And warm. And it was like they had warm arms outstretched at all times to accept whoever needed it.

Why did it make Taichi so angry?

No… 

Angry wasn’t the right word to use here, was it? It was a subtle pain and a tingling in his eyes that stung.

…Sad?

That didn’t feel right either. Feelings were too confusing. Taichi bunched his sleeve in his hand and raised it to wipe at his eyes.

“Taichi?” Misumi said softly, getting up. He took a few steps towards the changeling and rummaged in his jean pockets, taking out a triangle magnet. “Are you okay? Here, you can have this.”

He took the triangle.

It did nothing for him.

“I need to go somewhere,” Taichi muttered.

“Wait, is that safe?”

“Why do you care?” he snapped. “You don’t even know me.”

Misumi flinched like he was confused by this statement. “You’re a part of the Coven. We’re supposed to care about each other. That’s how it works.”

“What? That makes no sense!”

“That’s how it works,” Misumi repeated like he was stating a law of physics.

Taichi drew back. “I’m _going_. Don’t follow me or anything.”

“But Taichi—!”

“STOP IT!” he bellowed with a crack in the middle of the two words.

Kazunari suddenly popped up between the two of them with a cheerful “Woop!”

“Sumi,” he said, pointing to a tree. “There’s a nest up there. You wanna go and say hi? Lemme talk to Taitai a little. One-on-one, heart to heart, you know the deets!”

Misumi stared at him for a split second before nodding. “Right. Okay!”

He jumped up, hands latching onto the odd whorls sticking out of the trunk and hauling his body towards the upper branches with no trouble at all. Kazunari watched him and chuckled softly as he did so.

“Sumi’s incredible, isn’t he?” Kazunari said. “That guy can do anything. Upper body strength? King level! We love to see it!”

Taichi turned around and started walking.

“Hey, hey, hey, c’mon, now. I said I wanted to have a heart to heart, man!” Kazunari chided as he jogged to catch up. “Don’t be so cold, you’re gonna break my lil’ heart. Tsuzuroon does that enough! It’s alright if he does it though, he’s the sexiest Caster in the whole city so it’s an excuse.”

“I want to be alone,” Taichi said through gritted teeth.

“Do ya really?”

Taichi froze.

Kazunari had his hands laced together, cradling the back of his head with elbows out. “I mean, aren’t you tired of being alone?”

The changeling turned around slowly. “Kazunari. What are you?”

“Ehhh… I’ll get back to you on that one when I find out myself, chief!” The college student swayed dramatically after pressing his hand flat against his chest. “I’m in my find yourself phase, you know how it is. Soooo important! Real coming of age phase.”

Taichi stared at him silently.

Kazunari stopped rocking back and forth. “Yeah. You know, I like you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Okay. So. You’re a changeling. You worked a job you felt forced to have and you can wear faces. The entire job was based off of you being other people. Now you’re having an identity crisis.” Kazunari grinned and held up a peace sign. “Maaaaaan, my psych major friends would be _major_ proud of me, haha! Don’t you think? Maybe it’s not too late for me to change my path.”

Taichi stared at him again. He was getting the feeling that Kazunari spouted off a _lot_ of words that weren’t genuinely meant to be replied to.

“We put up the faces we want people to see the most, right?” Kazunari said, eyes narrowing from the sheer force of his smile. “It’s easier that way.”

Taichi’s lower lip quivered. He dropped his face towards the ground, brow furrowed and whispering the invitation for a headache. “I don’t—I don’t even know who I am, Kazunari. I don’t even know w-who or _what_ I am. How am I supposed to fit in and be _normal_ like the rest of them? They’re not… normal.”

Kazunari reached forward and patted Taichi once on his shoulder. A firm, open-handed smack like a call back to reality. “Yeah. Neither do I. Maybe that’s why I like you. Kinship? Hello? Totes incred!"

“But you—you have a face. You have _you_.” Taichi took in a shuddering breath that offered no relief. “It’s different.”

“You have a face too, don’t you?”

“But it’s _not mine_.”

Kazunari shrugged. “It’s yours if you wear it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I think it is. Maybe you’re just too scared to admit it.” Kazunari leaned back and sighed pleasantly. “So you can swap what you have on your face. Anyone could do that, technically, with plastic surgery. Tsuzuroon would say no, but I think enough Runes could do a good enough job at temporary disguise too. If you’ve got something underneath the face, then you’re still you no matter how much you try to act otherwise.”

He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re saying. You talk so much."

“If I shorten it… Swapping faces and whatever. Looking at a mirror and not seeing your face in there. It’s better than being empty, Taitai,” Kazunari said softly. “It’s gonna take time. You build up something on the inside, though, and maybe the whole changeling thing won’t be too bad for you."

Taichi glanced up at him. “Are you empty?”

Kazunari didn’t laugh outright but let an amused huff exit from his nose. “I don’t know. Am I?”

Taichi didn’t know how to answer this.

They walked back silently to where Misumi sat in the trees, watching them with an eye that glowed in the evening’s fading light.

* * *

Tsuzuru stumbled out of the lab and dragged a hand down his face, wondering if it was just the exhaustion or reality that made him feel as though his skin was sagging. His health was on the cusp of the red zone and there was only one solution. 

Vitamin C. 

Orange juice. Mmmm. 

Sakuya was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at his folded hands with all the intensity of an angst ridden teen. 

“You alright?” Tsuzuru asked him as he opened the fridge door. 

“Just fine.” 

A complete lie that even the thickest doornail would have been able to see through. “Have you started packing for the trip?” 

Sakuya shuddered, somehow growing even paler. 

Tsuzuru squinted at the reaction and made a prompt decision then and there. He capped the juice carton without pouring from it. “You know what, I think you’re a little overwhelmed.” 

The young Witch started shaking his head firmly, palms raised as though to placate the concern. “No, no, I’m not, I promise! I’m sorry if I’m giving off a weird energy, I guess, um, I guess I’m just—tired!" 

“Yeah, sure. I’ve looked in the mirror enough times, Sakuya, I can recognize a face that has too much on his plate.” Tsuzuru crouched down and opened a cabinet, digging towards the way back for a dusty bottle of sake. “Let’s go have, uh, a teenaged boy experience or whatever they call it nowadays. Saw Matsukawa bury this thing in here a few months ago but I think the mop head ended up forgetting about it.” 

Sakuya stiffened. “I don’t think… Is it alright?" 

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Tsuzuru said with a laugh. “Director’s got firm rules but I’m kind of opinionated towards the notion that the underaged should be taught how to drink _safely_. I’d rather you have the slightest sip with someone you trust than chug a whole forty the second you turn legal.”

It was kind of infallible logic there. Sakuya watched Tsuzuru pour half a shot of sake into a cup and fill the rest with hot water, diluting it until it became just barely alcoholic. He made another and nodded in satisfaction.

“Park?” he asked.

“Now? It’s night time.”

Tsuzuru rolled his eyes. “The park’s only really weird when it’s super late. That’s when the, uh, interesting people come out of the woodworks. It’s pretty relaxed around this time.”

The two of them slipped out of the front door. The park was just over a ten minute walk. As Tsuzuru promised, it was deserted, quiet, and lovely. They found a bench to sit down on and the old, cracked wood moaned under their weight.

“To the Coven,” the Caster said.

Sakuya laughed and clinked their cups together like they were classy adults and not two stupid teenagers holding plastic. “Coven."

They drank in tandem. The alcohol was just barely able to be tasted, like a subtle heat on the tongue that spread to their ears.

“You’re not spluttering,” Tsuzuru noted. “It’s weak but I thought you would have."

“Ah… yeah.”

“Not your first time?”

The young Witch traced the lip of the glass with his thumb and drew in a soft breath. “I don’t… it’s not.”

“Figured.”

Sakuya frowned. He drank again. “I used to sneak sips here and there from the liquor cabinet of my relatives. They never found out. It was just… I think it was just me trying to feel like an adult and stuff.”

“Adulthood is kind of bogus, Sakuya,” Tsuzuru said. “Taxes. Having to worry about insurance. Finding a job. Balancing a social life on top of all those obligations so you don’t drown in society. Ugh.”

Sakuya chuckled and nudged Tsuzuru’s shoulder. “You’re only a year older than me, why do you always sound like such an old man?”

The Caster’s face was slack with exhaustion but his eyes glimmered with teasing. “A lot of people say I was born an old man. Dad tells me I used to take the morning paper with my Cheerios so I could complain about the stock market reports while my older brothers watched cartoons.”

The two of them laughed quietly before falling back into the cozy silence underneath the night sky.

“I really wanted to be an adult though,” Sakuya said finally, unable to tear his eyes from the stars above. “I thought… I thought if I could become an adult, I would be able to really, really be happy. Make choices for myself. Live where I wanted. Meet the people I wanted to meet. And… be the person I wanted to be.”

Tsuzuru started like he was going to say something and then didn’t. He let Sakuya continue.

“I know you like to nag the Director about not being so… easy on me. And I’d like the challenge that comes with magic.” Sakuya held his palm out and let a tiny, candlelight’s worth of fire bud in his palm. A soft gold flickered on their cheeks as his magic danced in fiery cheer. He curled his fingers in and extinguished it, holding the heat close. “But I like it. I like… I like being a kid. I like feeling it’s okay for me to.”

“Was it something that was taken from you?” Tsuzuru asked simply.

The Witch didn’t say anything.

His hand started quivering and he drew it back, tucking it into his pockets.

Home. Coven.

People to listen to every stupid thing that came out of his mouth. Someone to cook him warm, delicious meals and ask him what he’d like to eat. Someone to sit with and learn from. So, so many people that shared the passion in his heart for the same things and were willing to go through any lengths to get answers. It was the kind of life you read about in books and saw in the movies but couldn’t be sure if it was real or not.

It was real and in front of him now.

“Maybe,” Sakuya confessed. “I don’t know. I don’t know if someone took it exactly, or if I took it from myself. It’s hard to sort out. Sometimes I try to but it gets all jumbled in my head.”

Tsuzuru patted his knee. “You can take your time.”

“I can?”

“Yeah. As long as you need to. And we’ll be here for you when you figure it out. We’ll help you how we can.”

Sakuya shuddered and blinked hard. Guilt swarmed his chest and his head like a black cloud of flies. A burden. A burden then, a burden now. Emotional blackmail. Holding the people he loved to fixing him, giving them nothing but work because he was nothing but a mess. He tried to wave the flies away but a few of the stubborn ones stuck around.

“Thanks, Tsuzuru,” Sakuya whispered and slid his watered down sake over. “I don’t feel like finishing it.”

“Yeah, you don’t gotta.” Tsuzuru took the glass and finished it off. He stood up and stretched. “We should head back to the Coven. How’d you like the rare rebelliousness?”

“I thought I’d have this kind of moment with Banri before you…”

Tsuzuru waved his hand. In complete deadpan, he delivered, “I’m full of nothing but surprises. Ready to go or do you need a minute?"

Sakuya shut his eyes and listened to the sound of a spring night. The crickets and cicadas weren’t here quite just yet, but there was something sweet in the cool air that came with comfort. Spring was a time for new beginnings. The ice of winter thawed away and life sprung up everywhere. Beneath your feet in flowers and grass, above your head in blossoms and leaves. Rebirth.

Sakuya got off of the bench. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raises my hands and takes a step away. Just saying. I think Sakuya needs to Talk to people more and in my head, I think Tsuzuru would NUMBER ONE be the first person to openly invite Sakuya to do so.


	36. Yuzo Kashima’s Guide on the Correlation Between the Physical Body and One's Latent Magic Reserves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An INCREDIBLE work of art was created for this fic! Please look at it and give the artist as much praise as possible 
> 
> https://twitter.com/_mayuuunaise/status/1306261122345885696?s=20
> 
> Thank you so much, @_mayuuunaise!
> 
> Edit: By the way!!! Thank you all so much for 600 kudos ^^ I've said this enough times but I never expected this fic to get the feedback it has. I'll continue to try my best to write this story!

Izumi frowned at the little package in front of her bedroom door, leaning down to pick it up. She undid the pink ribbon and unwrapped the tissue paper of the same color to find a pair of cute shoes. Simple blue slip-ons, acceptable for either indoor wear or outdoor. Like Toms, but with two bows by the toes. 

“Yuki?” she murmured to herself. There were only two cobblers in the Coven after all, one brownie that made shoes, and one made from peach that Omi had made last night. 

She put the shoes on top of her bookshelf and figured that she could ask him about them when he woke up. If she remembered to. 

“Morning, Omi,” Izumi said. 

The werewolf was already in the kitchen, pressing buttons on the rice cooker. A bowl of diced veggies were on the table. 

He shot her a warm smile. “Good morning, Director.” 

“You doing alright, sleeping on your own?” 

He faced the rice cooker again, looking away from her. “Mhm. Just. Fine.” 

Probably a lie but they really did have to work on getting him independent again so she would let it slide this time. 

“We’re leaving at noon so I hope you’re all packed.” 

Omi chuckled as he went for the fridge and took out their wholesale carton of seventy-two eggs. He reached for the biggest bowl they had available and began cracking them in, two at a time. “Luckily, I don’t own that many things. Packing was simple.” 

“That’s great! I’m probably going to have to help the others p—” 

_BOOM._

“Goddamn,” she muttered. “Every single morning, huh?” 

The door to the lab slammed open and smoke billowed out into the hall. Tsuzuru collapsed onto his knees and heaved for clean oxygen. He hacked out lungfuls of the smog. 

“Have you slept?” Izumi asked. 

Tsuzuru slipped off his safety goggles and blinked blearily up at her. “This week? Yes.” 

“ _Tsuzuru Minagi,_ I have your mother on speed dial now and I swear on God’s name I’m going to call her to let her know just how disastrous your sleep schedule is if you don’t fix it!” 

He rolled his eyes and crawled on his elbows and knees toward the kitchen. Once clear of the smog, he got up and gratefully accepted the glass of juice Omi offered him. 

“You don’t believe in God,” he spat. 

“Yeah, well, that’s not what your mom thinks.” 

Omi shook his head but couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I honestly don’t know how you two work so well together granted how much you spend your time bickering.” 

“Omi, please, we are not _bickering_. This is just a colleague speaking with a colleague,” Izumi insisted, giving Tsuzuru a firm slap on the back that put a wince on his face. 

“Mhm. Of course.” He lifted his nose into the air and sniffed. “Hm. He’s early.” 

“Who—?” 

Banri walked from the entryway through the kitchen and living room to the dorms, pace just short of running. 

“Good five-thirty-in-the-morning to you too, Banri,” Tsuzuru called. “Thanks for the, ‘hey, Tsuzuru, good morning, how are you doing? Your hair’s full of ash, I hope you’re okay.’” 

“Eat a dick,” was all youth snarled bitterly as he made his way to Muku’s room. 

Tsuzuru frowned. “He’s been grouchy as of late. More than usual. Think he’s hitting puberty?” 

“Well, nothing a couple of brownies won’t fix,” Omi said as he opened a cupboard and took out a large bag of cocoa powder. 

Izumi’s lips slanted. “Brownies this early in the morning? Is that the best idea?” 

Tsuzuru shot her a dangerous look. “Do _not_. Omi’s baked goods are the only thing getting me through this job.” 

So be it.

* * *

Muku didn’t know what was worse, waking up from a nightmare where Banri was trying to shove him into a cauldron to turn him into Muku Soup or having Real and Not Dream Banri kick his door in right afterwards. 

“The sun isn’t even up!” he whined as he was swung over Banri’s shoulder once again and marched to the courtyard. “I-I have my exam in a few weeks, I can’t spend _all_ my time trying to help you See!” 

Banri didn’t even grace him with a reply. Instead, he lifted his free hand to catch the can of coffee Tsuzuru tossed to him as they passed the kitchen. 

“Be _nice_ to him, Banri,” Izumi chided. 

Still not a word. 

Muku was dumped unceremoniously onto the grass and Banri sat across from him, crossing his legs. 

“The sun isn’t even up yet,” Muku mumbled sadly, glancing at the dim sky. 

“It’s not.” 

Muku looked over his shoulder to find Juza leaning against a tree trunk. How the ghost could do so without falling through was a mystery, but Muku still found it difficult to ask his cousin about the details of what it was like being dead. 

“Good morning, Ju-chan!” he said brightly. 

Juza gave him a nod. 

“Fuck off, Hyodo, I don’t need to see your ugly ass mug this early in the morning,” Banri said with a tone that dripped poison. 

“Tsk. Then stop coming here.” 

“Fuck you! I can go wherever I want! It’s a goddamned free country, bitch.” 

Muku frowned. “Can you _please_ stop being so mean to him?” 

“Fuck _you_ , you little clump of rotten fairy floss, you’re technically a Hyodo by blood which means I don’t give a shit about your demands.” 

Juza's silhouette flickered dangerously. “Watch how you talk to him before I kick your ass, Settsu.” 

“Try it, Casper. I’ll put my foot so far up your ectoplasm ass you’ll be able to floss your teeth with my shoelaces.” Banri dragged a palm down his face and let out a deep breath. “Just fucking shut up and stand there, I can’t deal with you right now. Sakisaka.” 

“Y-Yeah?” 

"Show me how to See again.” 

Muku rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grumbled, getting ready for another long day. Classes with Mister Citron had been difficult enough as of late, but with Banri coming over at any time he had free (and some hours he did _not_ have free, like school, which he skipped often) and demanding lessons, Muku was seriously draining his magic tank. Which was _very_ new. He’d never experienced magic exhaustion before but it was worse than the muscle soreness he’d suffered from during his track days. Magic exhaustion was a cold ache that settled deep into his bones and made him never want to get out of bed. 

“Let’s go through the breathing again,” he said at last, lifting his head. 

And then Muku got his first good look of Banri during that day. 

“EEK! OH MY _GOSH_ , WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” 

Banri’s scowl twisted into something even worse than what it had been originally. “Do you fucking mind? Asshole.” 

He was in a state no one in the Coven, potentially the world, had ever seen Banri Settsu in. Muku was used to Tsuzuru lurching through the halls with dark rings under his eyes but seeing Banri with them was new. The whites of his eyes were still stained with red from the burst vessel a few days ago. And was he… paler than normal? 

“We can’t do this,” Muku said immediately with a poorly suppressed shudder. “I can’t—Banri, you’re hurting yourself. We should go talk to Mister Citron and see what’s wrong.” 

Banri sighed. 

“Banri?” 

Muku squeaked as the older teen suddenly grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt, yanking him closer with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Listen. Did I ever _ask you nicely_ to teach me?” 

“Settsu,” Juza said, just once. 

Just once was enough. Banri flinched and let go, even though he kept the nasty look on his face. 

“N-No!” Muku managed. “I’m sorry I’m just a little w-worm! I’m so sorry, please don’t hurt me even if I deserve it as a lowly pumpkin stump!” 

He’d forgotten, through all of the misadventures and all of the times he’d seen Banri hobble back to the Coven with something broken or bleeding, just how scary the guy could be when he wanted to be. 

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Banri spat. “Shut the fuck up and just teach me what I want to know already. Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be, I’ve been getting killer migraines and I don’t need your shrill, annoying voice to make it any worse.” 

“…Okay. Okay. Let’s—Let’s go over breathing and trying to find our center again.”

* * *

“Izumi!” Midori cooed as she opened the door. “I’ve been hoping you would come back. And you brought so many people with you!” 

Izumi glanced over her shoulder at the crowd. Even Itaru, although he’d been forced into a hooded jacket to hide his horns. He refused to look up from his Switch. 

“Just about the entire Coven,” she said. “Except our manager, he stayed back to look after the building. Someone mentioned something about the Athenaeum having a travel system. Could you help us out with that? We need to find a way to get to Yamagata as a group.” 

Midori stood aside and gestured the group inside. “Ah. Vacation?” 

“Training camp.” 

Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh?” 

“ _Magic_ training camp!” Sakuya piped up, clutching both straps of his backpack in tight fists. His excitement battled with his exhaustion from not being able to sleep the whole night. 

“Any Firstborn Casters with you?” 

“Nnnnnnnnnnone…?” Izumi said slowly. She looked at everyone again and ran through their titles. “Yeah. Huh. None. I think the only Firstborn we’re missing is a Caster, actually.” 

Midori’s shoulders drooped. “Ah. Any Casters interested in learning some more advanced magic? Tsuzuru?” 

Tsuzuru flinched. 

“His ego’s gonna make him say no,” Masumi said flatly, shifting his headphones off of one ear with his shoulder. “All… ‘I already know all the advanced magic.’" 

“Stop talking,” Tsuzuru muttered as his ears went red. 

Muku cut off the conversation with a sudden strangled cry. “Wait, I-I thought this trip was Coven only…!” 

“It is?” Izumi said. 

“Then why is _he_ coming?” 

“Who?” 

“Gooooooood morning, everybody!” Kazunari crowed from the gate of the Arisugawa house. He joined the crowd inside. “Hide your wives, Kazunari Miyoshi has arrived." 

Misumi pounced on him immediately, throwing an arm around Kazunari’s shoulders and bringing him in close. “Kazu! You made it!” 

“Yeah, sorry for being late, the train was a teensy-weensy bit held up.” 

Misumi glanced at the Director and grinned. “I invited him!” 

She looked at them both before shrugging. “Well, might as well, Kazunari’s just as much a part of the Coven as the rest of us, I don’t see anything wrong with that.” 

And maybe a trip together was exactly what he and Muku needed to soothe the waters. (Muku was very pointedly staring at a wall and not at Kazunari, Izumi noticed.) She didn’t like the idea of anyone in the Coven holding ill intentions for one another. Banri was at Juza's throat constantly, yeah, but she figured that was something no amount of her meddling would be able to change. Yet, at least. But Muku and Kazunari? She’d meddle as much as she could. 

“A Miyoshi, aren’t you?” Midori asked, hobbling closer. She leaned her weight on her walking cane and smiled up at him. “I remember your father. He was one of the most frequent visitors of the Athenaeum when we were at our prime.” 

He saluted to her with two fingers. “Yeppers, that would be me! Hi hi!” 

Tsuzuru pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh my _god_. How can he talk to her like that.” 

“Caster, then?” Midori asked. 

“Yes, ma’am, you got that right. Best one around these parts and proud of it!” 

The old woman chortled. “Charming fellow, aren’t you?” 

He batted his eyelashes. “Only around charming ladies.” 

“ _I’m going to kill him._ ” 

“Tsuzuru, no,” Sakuya whispered. 

“That’s Madame Arisugawa. She—how can he—I can’t.” He opened his backpack and began rummaging. “Where are my Tums. I need an antacid so badly right now." 

Midori reached up and pinched Kazunari’s cheek, still laughing softly. “I don’t suppose you’d be very interested in learning the higher levels of Caster magic, would you? The Arisugawas have a few secrets up our sleeves after all.” 

“Oh! I’d actually _love_ that. Dad’s not super into magic society so most of what I know is totally self taught.” 

She tapped the end of her cane agains the wooden flooring. “Perfect! So Homare will go with you all on your trip.” 

Tenma choked on his saliva and hunched over to cough violently. 

“Would he be alright coming with us on short notice?” Izumi asked. 

“ _That’s_ the only thing you’re going to say?” Tsuzuru muttered. 

She shrugged. “I’m not going to be the one paying for lodging and food so why not?” 

Midori started down one of the narrow twisting hallways of her house. “Of course he will be! It’s been so long since Homare’s been on a trip. Follow me, his wing of the house is a little further.” 

“Homare has a wing?” Izumi asked. 

Sakuya leaned towards Tenma. “Wing? Like a bird?” 

“Nah. A wing of the house is like a separate house,” he replied. “Like, uh, we have a few guest wings. Personal kitchens, bathrooms, living rooms, that kind of thing.” 

“Oh.” He leaned away. 

“Of course he has a wing,” Midori said dismissively. “If I let him decorate the whole house the way he wanted to, his father and all of his ancestors would roll in their graves.” 

She tapped on the door at the very end with the end of her cane. The knocker, a golden ring depicting a snake consuming its own tail, rattled. The metal serpent came to life, removing its tail from its mouth and stretching its jaws. 

“ _Passsssssword_?” it hissed. 

“Carrot sticks.” 

The snake stuck its tail back in and the door opened. 

Izumi sucked in a breath. “Oh. My. God." 

When asked in the future to recount her experience of entering Homare Arisugawa’s domain, Izumi would say that it was the closest experience she’d ever had to a fever dream. Possibly even more hallucinatory and unreal. There was a lot. So much she found difficult to describe properly. The first thing that stuck out to her was that every surface of the room was the same. No flooring, no ceiling with lights. Just luminescent yellow checkered wallpaper that _moved_. 

The second thing that stuck out to her was the unfortunate realization that Homare had put a spell in his wing of the house to alter gravity. 

Masumi, Misumi, Banri, and, obviously, Midori were the only ones who were able to react quickly enough to land on their feet. Everyone else was forced to pick themselves off of the ceiling, moaning and bruised. 

“Why?!” Tsuzuru spluttered as he rubbed the newly formed lump on his head. “Why would _anyone_ do that? What’s the purpose!” 

“Homare’s not fond of restrictions,” Midori said in a doting way that only mothers could. She continued down the confusing, brain melting hall like it was nothing, even as the black and yellow squares beneath her feet wiggled every which way. “Gravity is included. He changes the direction gravity goes every now and then but it’s never the floor.” 

“Am I in hell?” Yuki asked as he turned in a circle to take in all of the… unorthodox interior design. He let out a cry and ducked when a winged chair flew by, nearly beheading him. “IS THIS HELL?" 

Itaru slipped his hood off and touched his horns to make sure neither of them had chipped from the impact. “Actually, this is worse than hell. Hell makes sense. This abomination frankly does not.” 

The third thing that stuck out was indeed how every piece of furniture was sporting a pair of wings and whizzing around the air with abandon for order. 

Citron leaned back to avoid a flower vase. “What a fun place! Would Homare do the same for my dorm if I requested him?” 

“NO!” Izumi yelled. 

“I want to have a room like this too!” Sakuya said. 

“ _NO!_ " 

Midori preened. “I’m sure Homare would love to give your Coven a makeover if you asked. Hold on, his work room should be _somewhere_ around here.” 

She leaned down and pressed the pad of her thumb against one of the black square that looked like all the others. The square grew large and opened—a mouth. On the pad of its purple tongue was a stone key. Midori picked it up and flung it down the hall. A winged coffee table turned into a green cat, nabbing the key with its mouth and pouncing away. 

“What is _happening_ ,” Taichi asked. 

Tsuzuru swallowed thickly. “I need to get out of here. I think I’m getting—motion sickness. Claustrophobia. I don’t know. I need to get out of here.” 

A giant slinky sprang towards them, up and down like a pogo stick. It attached to the wall and Homare emerged from it. 

“Mother,” he asked with a frown. “You know how I feel about strangers in my wing.” 

“Not strangers, Homare, dear. Potential friends!” She tapped the floor with her cane again. “Go pack your things, you’re going on a trip.” 

He gasped and took an affronted step away from her. “Pardon?” 

“Vacation, dear, with Mankai Coven!” She waved a hand in Kazunari’s direction. “You have a pupil now. Isn’t that so wonderful?” 

“ _Mother_.” 

“Have fun!” 

Midori was obviously not taking any answer besides one of excited agreement. Maybe it was coincidence, maybe Homare had charmed the room’s surfaces to reflect his mood. The checked yellow wallpaper went neon red and plaid. 

Tsuzuru lunged for a passing flower vase and vomited into it. 

It was motion sickness after all.

* * *

“You don’t have to look _that_ upset,” Izumi told him. “It’s gonna be fun! Probably. Your mom thinks it’s going to be at least." 

Homare didn’t respond. It was with stony irritation he led them down the Athenaeum. 

“This way,” he said gloomily. 

Sakuya quickened his pace to get ahead of the group as the large circle on the floor became visible. 

He got to his knees and ran his fingers along the white lines. “Whoa… this is so cool. Is this like a magic circle?” 

“For full transport, yes. We own one of the last ones in Japan.” 

Izumi’s mind flickered to Hakkaku’s basement. “We have one.” 

“Doubtful,” Homare chided. “You may be thinking of a teleportation circle instead. Those act as tunnels, essentially. Always out one way, always the same way back. The Athenaeum’s transport system goes anywhere in Japan you desire, granted there are no wards in place to fend off trespassers.” 

Sakuya ran his thumb against the white arc once more. “This isn’t drawn, right? It’s something, uh, inlaid in the floor. That’s really cool!” 

“Yes. Human bone.” 

Sakuya yanked his hand away. “Ah."

“Oh, sick,” Banri said, putting his hand on the white next. “I want one. S’cool now." 

“ _Human bone?_ ” Tsuzuru asked with revulsion coming off of him in waves. 

Homare clicked his tongue as he whisked around the circle, placing something different at each point of the center's seven-pointed star. A half-used candle, a chunk of green stone, none of which Izumi could follow. “Indeed. Obviously, we’re one of the last to exist for good reason. They require the bones of Casters to create.” 

Banri glanced at Tsuzuru. 

“No!” the Caster yelped. “Absolutely not!” 

“I didn’t even ask.” 

“I am unfortunate enough to know you and to have a sense of what goes through your head. Trust me, being able to follow your train of thought is bothering me more than it bothers you. And no, Banri, no you cannot have my bones when I die to remake this for yourself." 

Banri shrugged. “Eh. Fair enough." 

Homare held his hand out. “Address of the location?” 

Izumi checked her texts and told him. 

He curled his fingers into his palm. “Blasted technology. Things were classier when I was handed addresses on folded parchment than just told it.” 

“…Sorry?” 

“Apology accepted, I suppose, but out of courtesy more than my genuine feelings.” Homare clapped his hands and the entire Coven dropped through the floor.

* * *

“CAN WE PLEASE STOP DOING THAT!” Tenma yelled as he untangled his limbs from Masumi’s and Taichi’s. “PLEASE. _PLEASE_. NEXT TIME, WE CAN JUST TAKE THE FAMILY JET.” 

“Your family has a _jet?!_ ” Tsuzuru bellowed before the green on his cheeks forced him to curl up on the floor, moaning softly to repel the second urge to vomit he’d had that day. 

Sakuya forced himself to his feet, knees knocking, and helped the Director next. “I-It’s… It’s better than Itaru’s circle at least.” 

The demon got up. “No. I much rather prefer the hellfire ring. I will never travel with you lot ever again.” 

Homare flipped his hair over his shoulder. “You get used to it.” 

“I DON’T _WANT_ TO GET USED TO IT!” Tenma snapped. 

Izumi waited until the world stopped spinning to speak. “Let’s all get settled before we start butting heads, right? It’s too early for a fight.” 

“You say that now but we all saw you fistfight Taichi for the last sausage at breakfast today,” Omi said with a quiet laugh. 

“I did not _fistfight_ him!” She knocked on the front door to stop the conversation before it could continue. “I want you all to be as polite to Yuzo as possible. Until he pisses me off, then I want you all to be the demons you are.” 

Itaru snorted. “Really? You’re alright with giving me that right?” 

“Itaru, you might be from hell itself but currently on my long list of things I stress out about, you are surprisingly nowhere near the top of that list. Just play your games and mind your own business.” 

“As per usual.” 

“Yep.” 

The front door opened. Yuzo’s face fell as he saw Izumi and the small armada she brought with her. 

“You’re kidding,” he said. 

Izumi just waved. “Hi! Hope you have rooms ready for us.” 

He let them come inside and gave them a quick tour, despite there not being much to show. Yuzo’s vacation home, or, more accurately, his vacation _cottage_ , had a bedroom for himself that he made very clear he was not open to sharing with anybody, and a whopping three guest rooms available. Which was met with a flood of complaints as he informed them of this. 

“The Director should get a room to herself,” Sakuya said firmly over the din. 

She ruffled his hair. “Cute, kiddo. Is it because I’m a girl?” 

“I-I’m not trying to look down on you!” 

“I’ll be fine with the couch in the living room, I’ve slept in worse places during college. The question is, how will I split the rest of you?” 

“Sorting by age would be best,” Tsuzuru said. “Under-eighteens get one room. Sakuya, Misumi, Kazunari and I would get the second. Omi, Homare, Citron, and Itaru get the last.” 

“I am NOT sharing a room with him!” Yuki said poisonously as he jerked his chin in Tenma’s direction. 

“Hey!” 

Izumi ignored the complaints and slapped Tsuzuru on his back. “Look at you, being all methodical. This is why you’re going to keep your eyebrows for this trip.” 

“Thank you, Director, it means a lot to me that you’re letting me keep my facial hair.” 

Yuzo grumbled as he reached for the french press on the kitchen table. He poured himself a cup of coffee and knocked it back like it wasn’t scalding. “So much noise. This is exactly why I told you I didn’t want you bringing everyone.” 

Izumi chose to ignore his whining. “You got a lesson plan ready for Sakuya?” 

He nodded. “Obstacle course is ready in the back.” 

“Obstacle course?” Yuki asked, disgusted as though Yuzo had proposed they all wear clashing colors. 

“Did your Head Priestess not tell you?” 

“I go by Director, Yuzo,” Izumi said. 

“The _traditional_ term would be High Priestess.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Traditionally, there has _never_ been a woman left in charge of a Coven before so ’traditionally’ nothing. Director.” 

Yuzo closed his eyes and they all saw a vein stick out in his neck as he clenched his jaw. “Whatever. Your Director should’ve let you know that this is going to be a physical based regiment. All of you will be going through a series of exercises meant to hone physical strength and create better passageways for your magic.” 

Tsuzuru held out his hands like he was trying to calm down a pack of rabid wolves. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold it, not all of us.” 

“Actually, yes, all of you. The only two exempt would be…” Yuzo pointed one finger at Izumi and the other at Itaru. “Those two.” 

“What.” 

Izumi trained her eyes at the ceiling and feigned a whistle of innocence. Shame that she couldn’t actually whistle. 

“She should have told you. If you’re going to be staying here and you’re a magician, you’re expected to go through the same training as the students of your Coven.” The ex-Witch lifted his eyebrow in Tsuzuru’s direction. “That would be the teachers included. Fourthborn means no matter how hard she works out, her magic is limited. And the demon is a being of pure magic himself. Those two are the _only_ exceptions.” 

Tsuzuru shot her a look. _I’m going to start leaving you out of my prayers._

Izumi smiled at him. _Aw. You include me in your prayers?_

_Not anymore._

“I’m not a magician,” Yuki protested. 

“Don’t care. Magician, magical creature, whatever.” 

Homare laughed politely and turned around. “I bid you all to have a _swell_ time doing your plebeian, frankly useless and senseless muscle-headed activities. Unfortunately, I just remembered that I seemed to have left the stove on so I will be returning home.” 

Tsuzuru seized the back of his jacket and tugged him back. “No. I am _not_ going to let you walk out of this, Arisugawa.” 

“Unhand me! This is suede!” 

"First step to creating a healthy body would be through a large, protein-heavy meal.” Yuzo reached into a cupboard in the kitchen and removed a comically large frying pan. "Hungry?” 

“I love it here,” Taichi announced, the first words he’d spoken since arriving. “Yes. Always. I am always hungry." 

Yuzo snorted. “Good. I’ve got enough bacon in the fridge to feed a village.”

* * *

“Do you have more?” Taichi asked through a full mouth. Tiny crumbs of bacon fell from the corners of his mouth. Yuki shuddered. 

He was the only one left eating. Sakuya, along with most of the others, was resting his head on the table, groaning as his stomach threatened to split open from the sheer amount of meat he’d been forced to consume. Yuzo stared at the changeling with a mix of wonder and horror, the way one looked at a painting of a war zone. 

“No,” Yuzo said finally. “We’re out.” 

“Oh.” Taichi swallowed and furrowed his brow. “I thought you said you had enough for a village.” 

“I did.” 

“Oh.” 

Yuzo glanced at Izumi. “How the hell do you keep this one fed?” 

“Through a _lot_ of budgeting,” she said, collecting the empty dishes. “Thank God Omi knows how to cook, am I right? The guy’s not great at curry but he makes a mean lasagna.” 

Taichi hummed to himself. “Mmm. I really love Omi’s lasagna.” 

“Can people stop talking about food,” Tenma said through gritted teeth. “If someone says the B word I’m actually going to get sick.” 

“What. Bitch?” Banri asked. 

“Banri!” 

He handed her a hundred yen. 

Yuzo shook his head. “You younguns and your energy. Woulda locked the Coven and called it closed without a bit of remorse if I’d been in charge, you can bet your asses on that.” 

“I think…” Sakuya lifted his head with his eyes unfocused. “I think I’m going into a food coma.” 

“Wake up then.” Yuzo slapped the flat of his palm on the table, rattling the silverware. “Time for the obstacle course.” 

Misumi got up and then sat back down, legs giving out. He lifted his sweatshirt and frowned at his protruding stomach. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve _ever_ eaten this much food before.” 

“We’re going to be running the obstacle course and turning all that protein you just ate into muscle. A toned body is a better passageway for magic.” 

“Said who!” Tsuzuru demanded as he scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to get rid of the awful feeling of grease on skin that refused to go away. 

“Said me.” 

“And I don’t suppose you published a peer-reviewed citable source backing up those claims.” 

Yuzo stared at him and then disappeared into a room. He came back with a thin paperback volume which he tossed unceremoniously towards Tsuzuru. The Caster flipped through and sketpically skimmed the contents. Then he flipped to the back. 

He let out a, “Huh.” 

“What is it?” Sakuya asked. 

“A peer-reviewed citable source. Yuzo Kashima’s Guide on the Correlation Between the Physical Body and One's Latent Magic Reserves, with contributions from Syu Otomiya.” He handed the book back to Yuzo. “Dang. You got me there. Guess we’re off to the obstacle course.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Itaru made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and slinked off to one of the available rooms. “Have fun, lower life forms. I’m going to try to get a hundred percent rating on my town while you’re off mimicking neanderthals."

* * *

Yuzo had promised “a few rooms” and, later in his text message, plenty of space. 

The house had certainly been a bit of a disappointment but the latter was not. 

Misumi let out a yelp of joy when he saw the wide field of lush grass. He spun a few effortless cartwheels as though he didn’t have three pounds of meat inside of his stomach. 

“Wow! It’s so nice here!” he cried. He pointed to a nearby cluster of trees that formed a small woodland. “Director, Director, can I go look around? Pleeeeeeeaaaaase?" 

“Go wild, Misumi, just don’t get lost.” 

“Yay! Bye bye!” 

“Why doesn’t he have to go through the obstacle course?” Tenma demanded. 

Izumi rolled her eyes. “Tenma. It’s Misumi. The kid doesn’t even use a key to get into the Coven, he scales the building to the second floor and lets himself in through either the patio or whatever window’s open. He lives like the whole world’s just an obstacle course, we can let him off for a bit.” 

He opened and shut his mouth several times, desperate to argue but not able to come up with a decent rebuttal against her words. 

Yuzo kicked the rickety wooden monstrosity in his yard. The thick, knotted rope that hung from one of the jutting beams began swinging back and forth. “First task. Climb the rope. There will be a few challenges once you reach the top but they’ll be self explanatory. The obstacle course ends once you can hit the bell at the very end. Added incentive? First one to ring the bell skips the course tomorrow.” 

Banri put the side of his hand to his forehead to block the sun as he stared up. “What are the rules?” 

“No rules.” 

“Deadass?” 

“What?” 

Banri let out a disgusted scoff. “You for real, old man?” 

“I’m not old!” Yuzo snapped. “I’m forty-three!” 

“Ewwwww,” Yuki dragged out. “Old person. Gross.” 

“I’m going to wring all you brats by the neck. No, there are no damn rules except no teleportation and no gravity-defying. Flight, gravity manipulation, et cetera. You’re allowed to use as much magic as you can to get through the course itself.” 

Yuki held up his hand. “Do you own all of this land?” 

“Yes, brownie. Your magic will be accessible as long as you stay within the fence of wards I've got at the edge of my property." Yuzo blasted a small airhorn he pulled out from his pocket. Everyone slapped their hands over their ears at the grating noise. “The course has begun. Get going."

* * *

All magic barred two were allowed and that was all some of them needed to be told. Taichi beat the rest of them to the punch, first grabbing the rope and then turning into a squirrel. He squeaked a few times and twitched his little nose before scampering up the rope without a care in the world. 

Omi laughed. “That’s a creative way around it. Now I feel a bit bad for being conventional.” 

He shrugged off his vest and folded it nicely before handing it over to the Director. Then he began climbing up the length of the rope, biceps rippling and no sweat on his forehead. Yuzo let out an impressed whistle. 

“I’m still not pleased with you letting that one into the Coven but the mutt’s got good form.” 

Izumi was a little too preoccupied “Tsuzuru. Tsuzuru! _Tsuzuru!_ You’re going to swallow a bug, shut your mouth.” 

Yuki took out a roll of measuring tape from his purse and let the bag itself drop to the ground. He unfurled the length of calibrated plastic and shrank down to his true size, wrapping one end of the ruler around his waist. With a flick of his finger, the other end of the measuring tape flew up and tied itself around Omi’s ankle. 

“Bye,” he said simply as he was lifted into the air. 

Muku squeaked in betrayal. “Y-Yuki! I thought you said we’d do this together!” 

The brownie didn’t say anything as he went higher and higher with each yank from Omi’s own climb. 

“I’m not losing to a fucking foot tall squirt that told me I was colorblind,” Banri snarled as he started on his own ascent the old-fashioned way. 

Masumi glanced at Tenma. “Fifty bucks says I can beat you.” 

“ _Beat_ me?” The Sumeragi heir went red in the face. “You’re getting real cocky, Usui. I’m your teacher and I’ve been learning magic a lot longer than you have, Firstborn or not.” 

“Whatever. You in?” 

Tenma leapt for the rope as magic flooded through his arms. Masumi was hot on his heels. 

Homare crossed his arms and stared at the rope like it’d insulted his family. 

“I would _never_ ,” he said to nobody in particular. A Rune was flung towards the sky where it stayed suspended. The glowing character suddenly twisted in on itself before a ladder of silk burst out from it. Homare began his “status appropriate” climb. 

Tsuzuru touched the ladder himself with full intent to climb the easier method as well before he retracted his hand with a sharp cry of pain. 

“You _electrified_ it?” he squawked, reminiscent of Kamekichi. 

“You _will_ have to forgive me,” Homare drawled. “I am in a very bad mood granted these treacherous circumstances and I find nothing in me that pleads to be altruistic.” 

“Screw you!" 

“Sakuya,” Citron said sweetly, placing a hand on the Witch’s head. 

“Y-Yes?” 

“If you assist me, I will be very happy to tell you my vision where you pass this objective course with peas.” 

“You mean obstacle,” Masumi corrected him from above. 

Muku smiled slightly. “And ease, sir. Not peas." 

Sakuya’s eyes widened. “For real? Yes, yes, of course!” 

“Good.” Citron leaned down and whispered something into Sakuya’s ears. The Witch nodded, listening to each word. 

Muku stiffened and took a step back. “Oh _no_.” 

“What? What are they planning?” Tsuzuru hissed. 

Citron winked at him. “It is okay, Tsuzuru, I will include you this once.” 

He reached into his own bag and pulled out— 

A sapling. 

“You Seers really give me the goosebumps,” Izumi piped up. “Did you already look into the whole trip? Is that how you came prepared?” 

Citron just laughed and took a moment to plant the tree. “Sakuya. Speed up time, please.” 

“R-Right. _Zeitsprung_.” 

The sapling quivered violently before exploding into a full-grown tree. Tsuzuru and Muku both let out hysterical screams as they were caught within the mesh of branches and forcefully flung upwards. 

Yuzo and Izumi both stared at the four magicians making their rapid climb, passing everyone else in no time at all. 

“CHEATERS!” Banri bellowed. “FUUUUUUUUUCK YOU!” 

Yuzo handed Izumi a can of lemonade from a small icebox he’d brought with him. They sat on the grass and got comfortable. 

“Real strange generation you’ve got, Director Tachibana.” he said. 

Izumi’s heart filled with warm pride. “Right?” 

Hold on. She squinted at the rope. Were they missing someone? 

Izumi counted. Nope. Same people as when they’d left the Coven that morning sans Itaru and Misumi. She was probably just imagining things.

* * *

“You’re supposed to be outside,” Itaru said, voice monotone. He didn’t look up from the Switch. “I was looking forward to time alone before tonight." 

“Haha, sorry,” Kazunari sang, not sounding very sorry at all. “I know I look like a swimsuit model and everything but boy, oh boy, do I not like exercising if I can help it. You won’t be too upset if I hide out here for a bit, would you?” 

Itaru pursed his lips but didn’t snap his fingers and set Kazunari on fire, so the Caster figured that was as good of an affirmative he would get. He plopped down in a corner and took out his sketchbook. Vacation or not, there was always time to work on his portfolio. He blabbered endlessly to fill the silence. 

“And _then_ he was like ’there’s no way you know a better boba place than I do’ and I said ‘yuh huh’ and he said ’nuh uh’ so I took him to Tapiocalicious and he was all ‘wow you’re totally right, Kazunari, I was totes a dunce for not believing in you’ and I was like ‘hell yeah, man.’ Oh, sorry, is it offensive to you if I throw the word hell around? Just let me know if it is! I took Tsuzuru out for boba once and he slurped too hard he ended up choking on the pearls so I think he hates it now, which is kinda sad since boba tea is _so_ good. Taro’s supes popu but it’s too, you know, sweet for me? I like the English tea option, it reminds me of this cute girl I went on a date with once, dunno why though, we got sandwiches and not boba—” 

“Stop talking,” Itaru said sharply. 

“Word!" 

“You are frightfully annoying. Even more than that blasted Seer who lives in the room next to mine.” Itaru’s fingers clenched around his Switch as a scorpion came from nowhere and stung his player. “At least your soul is interesting." 

The Caster gasped and put a hand on his chest, over his heart. “Aw! You too, man, that’s real nice of you to say." 

“Nice of me to say? Hm.” Itaru cocked his head to the side. “Are you interested in perhaps saving the soul of your friend?” 

“I…” Kazunari blinked a few times and then laughed awkwardly. “Huh?” 

“Tsuzuru Minagi is currently the price paid for my existence in this dreadfully droll world. When my contract with my summoner is fulfilled, I will reap his soul and return to hell.” Itaru scoffed. “Very disappointing though. His soul is as tepid as the beer the Director buys.” 

Kazunari held up his hand. “H-Hold on. Haha. Could you, uh, backtrack to the reaping Tsuzuroon’s soul bit?” 

“What is there to explain? It’s fairly self-explanatory.” 

“I guess... it is. The Director mentioned it in passing when I met you all for the first time but I thought it was a joke.” Kazunari stared at the half-finished profiling on his page and swallowed, throat dry. "I can… save him?” 

Itaru shook his head. “Most likely, no. My summoner would have to agree for the contract shift and I doubt he would.” 

“Sumi… yeah. I guess—well.” The Caster hummed. "Maybe he would. It’d be weird of me to think he wouldn’t. We could ask him for us to switch the price!” 

The demon just snorted like Kazunari had said a joke. 

“You want my soul though? For real?” he asked softly, breaking the following silence. 

“The more conflict a soul holds, the more enticing it is. The sacrificed Caster knows his place in the world. You do not." 

Kazunari stilled. The tip of his tongue slipped out from between his lips like he was trying to taste the air, trying to see if it was fresh enough to voice his thoughts. 

“Makes sense. Tsuzuroon’s amazing. He goes through everything like he knows exactly what he wants and how to get it. For me, on the other hand. Ah. Life’s confusing,” he confessed, turning his head to avoid eye contact. 

“That’s putting it lightly,” Itaru replied. “I am curious as to why there’s such a disparity between your soul and…” He gestured vaguely towards Kazunari as a whole. “Your demeanor insists you have a soul that tastes like a rice cracker." 

“Ow. Kinda hurt my feelings there, man, not gonna lie." Kazunari stuck his charcoal behind an ear despite knowing it’d be a pain to wash the black smudge out later. “You’re a demon, right?” 

Itaru pointed at his horns. 

“You wanna know what goes through my head?” 

Itaru raised his eyebrow at the sudden shift in Kazunari’s tone. 

“Let me talk for a bit. Like, for real. Not—not the thing before about boba. More existential. I feel like if you’re an immortal soul who’s seen the worst of humanity, I might as well.” 

“What is it with you people and treating me like a confessional,” Itaru muttered. 

Kazunari stared at the wallpaper hard enough to bore holes through the ghastly floral print. 

“Sometimes,” he began slowly. 

“Sometimes, you think you have it all figured out and then life gets boring. It’s just a puzzle you put together and that’s that. Act this way, look that way, tweak your behavior little by little and everything’s easy as pie. But deep down, the second you think you have life figured out, after that split second of euphoria when you think you’ve reached this upper level of understanding, you get bored and sick of it. Then life throws the sickest, most uncaring curveball your way and you realize that your way of thinking is flawed. The puzzle picture is so much bigger than you’d thought it was. So you start putting more pieces together, and then you get bored again, and then the cycle continues. 

“People don’t like you if you’re boring. People don’t like you if you’re ugly. So you do what you can to be fun and good looking by whatever arbitrary standard is set on your head. Then you realize that people don’t like it if you’re smart, at least smarter than they are, but people also don’t like it if you’re an airhead. So you resign yourself to having a sharp wit and nothing under the surface. You carve away everything you think makes yourself you to be likable.” 

Kazunari was picking up speed now. The words that had started as slow and careful were now flooding out in a fast river, hot with frustration and repressed rage. 

“Everyone says _be true to yoursel_ f but it’s a lie. I still don’t understand why they keep telling that _lie_ , you know. My life would have been easier if people were just honest from the get go, even if the truth was ugly. I don’t know why everyone’s so _insistent_ that you be true to yourself but the minute you are, they shove you away out of sight. It clicked for me a while back. Be genuine but only if your ‘genuine' is what they want. What they like. If it's not, then keep acting until the day you die or die alone. It’s an awful contradiction. Be absolutely like everybody else, conform like your life depends on it. But also, be original, be like no one else, come out on top and make your name known amongst the masses to establish you’re this really unique individual that deserves to be elevated. But don’t be _too_ original because then you’re a freak. So conform. And then _that_ cycle goes on and on and never takes a break. 

“Be nice. People don’t like cruelty. But then everyone else is the cruelest you could ever imagine. Let them keep taking, and taking, and taking from you until you’re nothing. Otherwise you’re a selfish prick who deserves to have everything taken anyways. 

“We want to feel like we have somewhere to belong. We want to feel like we have people who like us for who we are. It takes searching? It takes work? Fuck that. It takes work for some people but others have it as easy as pie. Some people will have the support and love they need handed to them on a goddamned silver platter and never have to lift a finger. Why is that? Why are some people born lucky with the one thing all humans crave, and some people are given a jar of shit and a spoon to eat it with? Objectively, wouldn’t it be easier to just die than live a half-baked life like that?” 

Itaru opened his mouth as though he was about to possibly argue against this. 

Kazunari didn’t even let him start. 

“But that’s another contradiction. I don’t want people to die. People don’t want me to die. Are we living for others? Are we living for ourselves? _Why_ are we living? Why am I still here if I can’t imagine a life that’s worth living? Is it because I still have this foolish, childish infatuation with being happy inside of me that despite all the fucking numbness managed to survive like a cockroach? 

“Why does any of it even matter? We all die eventually. We’re all in the dirt with worms eating away at us until nothing’s left but our skeletons. Do I die the minute I’m dead? Do I die the minute all traces of my existence are gone? Is that why I’m an artist, for an internalized _selfish_ reason of wanting to create something that stays around even if my body isn’t there? Why? What meaning does that have? Why will I care about wanting to be remembered if I die and rot and I cease to exist, if my brain activity isn’t there to perceive? Am I an idiot? 

“Sometimes it feels like you’re the only one asking questions. And sometimes, it feels even worse. It feels like you’re the only one who doesn’t know the answer. You see all these people walking around, feeling real happiness, being real people, and it’s like everyone’s laughing at the most hilarious inside joke that no one gives enough of a shit to explain to you. Figure it out or suffer. If you can’t figure it out, you don’t deserve happiness anyways. 

“There’s no answer at all. No matter how you spin it, there’s no explanation. 

“I’m selfish and self absorbed and the biggest raging narcissist you’ll ever meet in your life. Here I am, stressing out about the intricacies of being alive. It’s the ugliest kind of privilege, isn’t it? There are people starving in third world countries, kids too young to leave the house getting beaten black and blue by their parents, there are people dying of a disease they can’t control, there are people who live in pain every day because their nervous system said _fuck_ you. I’m here with both legs, both arms, both—“ 

Kazunari choked and then forced himself to continue even as his breath turned ragged. 

“Both eyes. I have parents who love me and would never lift a hand to hurt me. I’m going to a college. And yet here I am, here I am drowning in this waste of angst because, what, some parts of the world don’t make sense to me? And I keep telling my brain to stop thinking about it, stop tying itself into knots over a cosmic horror that’s irrelevant and will never be figured out. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it feels like the mask I’ve put up is stuck so close to my face, if I try to take it off I’ll rip my own skin. I am such a giant fucking asshole. 

“So I’m unhappy no matter what, is that it? Everyone’s unhappy? You could get dealt a full house or a row of trash and no matter what, you’d be miserable. Isn’t that ridiculous? What’s the point of living like that? Different levels of suffering but _everyone_ is suffering? Why? Who made it like that? What kind of absolute sadist thought that would be a good idea? 

“If there’s a God, He’s not a nice one. Tsuzuru can go on and on about how Jesus Christ loves all his children and whatever, but man, if that wouldn’t be the most abusive parent-child relationship in the history of the universe. It’s either, there is a God and he sure as _fuck_ doesn’t give a damn about our happiness, or there isn’t a God and there isn’t an answer to a confusing world and we’re fucked no matter which way.” 

Kazunari suddenly burst out laughing. 

He dropped his face into his hands and sighed as the small explosion of guffaws died out. 

“Fuck.” 

A moment of silence passed. Kazunari’s eyes flickered up to the demon and he smiled. Not a flicker of negative emotion remained on his face. The previous explosion had been wiped out without a trace, the only remnant being Itaru’s memory. 

“Any thoughts on all that? Immortal pearls of wisdom to drop on me?” the Caster asked. 

Itaru shook his head. “None you’d understand the way you are now. And perhaps my answer would do nothing but turn you boring as well." 

“Ehhh, that’s no fair. Just totally emptied out the last few years of angst onto you, LARP Man!” Kazunari took the charcoal from behind his ear and began sketching once more. “Whatevsies. Let me know if you wanna say something though. And, uh, you’re not going to tell anyone else, will you?” 

Itaru shrugged. “I don’t suppose there is a point.” 

“Cool!” He shut his eyes. “Cool." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight peek into Kazunari's twisting, repressed thought process on the world. Just a slight peek. His whole rant itself is about 12.5% of this chapter hah
> 
> Secondary note: in the game, Homare said he perceives the world in aesthetic extremes. Which means I got to have REAL fun with imagining just how bonkers his room would be in this AU


	37. Vanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing this fic so much (I say, after not posting for almost 2 weeks)

“I feel like making a tree grow is cheating,” Banri snapped as he began nearing the top, quite literally scratching at Omi’s heels for him to hurry up. 

Muku detangled himself out of the branches. He looked shaken up by the sudden trip he'd been forced to take, launched into the air by nothing but nature and rapidly passed time. Bits of foliage stuck out in his hair. 

“I didn’t—I didn’t see that happening,” he managed, taking a shaky seat at the top of the obstacle course. “I’m just… I’m just going to wait here a bit. I think I need to take a break. Or I'll throw up."

“I’m going to kick your butt,” Tsuzuru swore as he hopped out of the tree. “Citron, sleep with one eye open.” 

“I do not need to sleep with an eye open, I am a Seer.” 

“Can you _see_ what I’m about to do to you tonight?” 

Citron opened and closed his mouth. He raised his hands to his eyebrows. “That is a slow blow, Tsuzuru.” 

The Caster’s eye twitched. “Low blow.” 

Citron nodded sagely. “A low and slow blow.” 

Tsuzuru buried his face into his hands and let out a scream. 

Omi climbed up the rest of the rope and hoisted himself onto the small wooden platform along with the rest of them. The little stand swayed dangerously with the newly added weight. Muku clung to the edge until his knuckles turned white as his breathing went rapid. 

“That was _very_ impressive, Sakuya,” he said warmly, wiping away a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

Yuki hopped up next, retracting the measuring tape like nobody’s business. Omi seemed still unaware of the hitchhiker he’d fostered. 

Sakuya went pink. He wrung his hands. “It wasn’t all that. I’ve done it before!” 

“Doesn’t make it any less impressive.” Omi squinted at the next passage. There were several gymnastic rings strewn up with rope over the ground nearly thirty feet below them. “This… doesn’t feel remotely safe. Where’s Taichi?” 

Tsuzuru jerked a thumb behind him. Taichi had already whizzed past the next stage, jumping from ring to ring like he was having the most fun he could ever recall having had. 

“I am _not_ getting beaten by a squirrel,” Tenma said through gritted teeth as he touched onto the platform next. Without taking a break, he jumped off high into the air. 

Taichi reared his squirrelly head and squeaked something that sounded a mixture of alarmed and concerned. As alarmed and concerned as a squirrel could sound, at least.

Tenma seized one of the swinging rings. “What’s he—“ 

Tenma’s hand slipped. 

There was a half second where he stayed suspended in the air and just glared at the ring he’d lost a hold of. The sun was reflecting off of the metal a little too vibrantly. With a little too much sheen. 

“I put margarine on them,” Yuzo remarked, all the way down below only for Izumi’s ears. 

Izumi’s jaw dropped. “YOU PUT _MARGARINE_ ON THE RINGS? WHY?” 

“They never expect margarine. Have you ever tried that, uh, I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter shit? Absolutely incredible. They make it in spray form now, I use it on all my pans for cooking.” 

“TENMA!” Sakuya shrieked as the heir began plummeting. 

Yuki tore out a roll of purple ribbon from inside his pocket and sent it flying down. One end snaked around one of Tenma's ankles and tied itself into a pretty bow. The other knotted itself around one of the rings, making him bounce up and down like he was on the worst bungee jumping experience he’d never signed up for. 

“WHAT THE _FUCK_ ,” Tenma bellowed as he dangled. 

“That’s a hundred yen, Tenma!” Izumi called, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Stop stressing out, you’re doing great! You’re fine!" 

“I AM _HANGING_ OVER MY _DEATH!_ ” 

“No you’re not!” Izumi stopped. She looked at Yuzo. “He’s not, right?” 

He just shrugged. 

“YUZO!” 

Yuzo rolled his eyes. “He’ll be absolutely fine. The entire bottom floor’s covered with a softening charm, the worst thing he’ll face dropping from there is a light bruise.” 

“Tenma, you’ll be fine! See? Come on, champ, you got this!” 

“I’m giving you five seconds before I cut the ribbon,” Yuki drawled, crossing his arms. 

“YOU WOULDN’T DARE.” 

“Five. Four.” 

Tenma yelped and forced himself to do a sit up, seizing the ribbon and inching upward. He grabbed the rope the ring was suspended on for a firmer grip. 

“I can’t believe they had the utter audacity to ban anti-gravity magic,” Homare huffed as he finally arrived at the top, taking his sweet time on his red ladder. “What is the purpose of taking away the most _obvious_ remedy?” 

Tsuzuru clicked his tongue and began drafting a Rune sequence. “Probably to test our creativity or something arbitrary like that. Yuzo said this is geared towards being a physical work out too but I have the muscle consistency of a punching bag filled with oatmeal. Not feeling that.” 

Homare peered over his shoulder and hummed. “Sticky handed runway?” 

“Uh?” Tsuzuru frowned at him. “This is a Full Contact Mobile Bridge Rune sequence.” 

“Yes. The sticky handed runway.” 

“The _what?_ You can’t just make up names—” 

Homare clicked his tongue. “Bah. You’re wasting time.” 

He slashes his hand through the air, sending Runes flying every which way summoned from seemingly nowhere. Sakuya pressed his fingers to his lips, watching with wide eyes. Tsuzuru and Kazunari’s Runes were exactly what you expected—writing in the air, sending it towards something else with a push of a palm. And yet, all of Homare’s crimson Runes seemed to have lives of their own. As though they were laughing as loudly as their creator as they ricocheted off of surfaces to find somewhere that was comfortable to sink into. 

It was like he gave magic life. 

The rings grew in size until they were the size of hula hoops. Tenma let out a sigh of relief and swung his legs until he could sit inside of one safely. 

“What was _that,_ ” Tsuzuru asked. 

“Who knows?” Homare said. He crooked a finger. One of the hula hoops leaned closer towards the platform for him to take a comfortable step onto. “I’d just be making up names, wouldn’t I?” 

Tsuzuru’s entire face went red.

* * *

“ _You’re back?_ ” 

Misumi paused. He climbed down the tree he’d been perching on to gaze at the riverbank. A pretty woman was lying across one of the large, sun warmed stones. She blew a wet lock of hair out of her face and smiled at him. 

“Oh!” Misumi sat down and drew his knees closer to him. “Hi. I never thought I’d see you again.” 

“ _Fate works in mysterious ways, Squidling. You’d do well not to question it_.” 

Misumi laughed softly. “I’m not really a s _quidling_ anymore. I’m nineteen now. Full squid. Grown up squid!” 

The selkie leaned a cheek on the heel of her palm. “ _I met you when you couldn’t even look me in the eyes for the first hour. All you did was offer me half your potato. Once a Squidling, always a Squidling._ ” 

Misumi patted his pockets. “I don’t—I don’t think I have a potato on me right now.” 

“ _That’s alright, I don’t like potatoes_.” 

“Oh. But you ate what I gave you, right?” 

The selkie laughed, the noise like water pouring into a thin, tall glass. “ _I’m not so rude I’d say no to a snack._ ” 

Misumi smiled. He drew his knees closer and rocked back and forth. “I think you’d like onigiri better. It’s much tastier than potatoes. Plus, they’re shaped like triangles!” 

Yamagata. Right. That’s why it’d sounded so familiar. He’d been here before, hadn’t he? With that traveling circus, before they closed for the cold seasons. 

“How’d you find me?” he asked. 

The selkie shrugged. She ran her fingers through her water-logged tresses. “ _There was a lot of magic coming from the blood traitor’s land. Every Mythic around these parts got a little curious. I suppose seeing you was just a stroke of luck_.” 

“Blood traitor?” 

“ _Tch. That damned Kashima._ ” Her upper lip curled, showing off a top row of pointed teeth. “ _You’d do well to avoid him as much as possible, Squidling. Humans who have the privilege of wetting their feet in the ocean of magic… turning their backs on it? Absolutely repulsive. And he still has the impudence to ward his land when it was ours to begin with_.” 

Misumi thought about that for a bit. It was making his head hurt. 

The selkie reached up to touch his eyepatch. “ _Have you made friends, Squidling? You seem lighter of heart than the last time I met you_.” 

“I did!” Misumi said happily, all too willing to shove the head-hurting thoughts away for later. “I have a lot of friends now. Real ones. There’s Kazunari, he’s really good at art and really funny. And, and Tsuzuru. He’s a little mean but I think it’s all for show because he cares a lot about everybody. Banri’s really funny and just exciting to be around. And Director, I think you’d like Director a lot, she let me stay in her house and she gave me lots of food to eat and she teaches me magic. Good magic.” 

He paused and shrugged, suddenly sheepish. “I’m not good at good magic. But I’m going to keep working hard.” 

The selkie stretched out on the warm rock and sighed. “ _Foolish, foolish human. Good magic? Bad magic? It’s all just magic_.” 

“That’s not how we see it.” 

“ _The way you see it is wrong._ ” 

He didn’t know what to say to that. So he didn’t say anything. He just grinned. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” Misumi said. “I’m sorry I don’t know how to pronounce your name.” 

The selkie leaned up once more to flick his forehead with a scaled finger. “ _It’s not that difficult. It’s just—_ “ She let out a series of dolphin squeaks. 

Misumi tried his best to replicate it. 

She shook her head. “ _You picked up speaking to animals like an eel to the water and yet you can’t even say my name_.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“ _It is how it is._ ” She reached for her discarded seal skin, a shimmery and silver pool of silk. She shimmied into it like it was a pair of tight leggings and then, before shrugging the hood on, cast another look towards Misumi. “ _I have another skin_.” 

“Hm?” 

“ _Another skin. I could give it to you_.” 

He stared at her. He looked down at his hands and frowned. “Oh.” 

“ _You could come with me. I’ve taken a liking to you_.” She placed a hand on the rough surface of the stone and ran her scaled hands back and forth on it, scowling at the scratchiness like it was an offense. “ _The surface world is dangerous. The sea is a much more beautiful place. You could join my herd. We may not be able to stop you from aging like the rest of us but… you would grow old and grossly wrinkled like your kind does in peace._ ” 

“That’s alright,” Misumi said softly. “Thank you, though. I know that’s a really big gesture. But I have a home now and I don’t want to leave them behind.” 

The corner of the selfies lips turned upwards. She patted Misumi’s head. “ _Take care, Squidling. The gods are turning and their rest will soon be broken. Truly, I do not wish for you to break as well._ ” 

“I won’t. I’m strong now.” 

“ _You were always strong, Squidling_. _The grass rotted where you stood. Do you remember? You were so scared of hurting the flora and fauna you dug yourself a little hole in the sand to sit in._ ” 

Misumi laughed. “I’m not scared anymore.” 

The selkie gave him one last look before shrugging her hood on. She shifted into a seal and dove into the deep river, disappearing from view. Misumi stretched out next on the warm rock and sighed. His chest ached but not in the bad way it used to. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry but it was somewhere between the two.

* * *

“OH MY GOD!” Muku bawled as he dove behind a thick wooden beam. “NO, NO, NO, I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! PLEASE NO MORE!" 

Another bolt of electricity came shooting down towards them as a hellish bronze bird opened its horrifying mouth. Omi let out a grunt as a particularly nasty little strike hit him square in the chest, smoldering the cloth of his shirt. 

“ _YUZO!_ ” Tenma roared. “I AM GOING TO _KILL YOU_ WHEN I GET DOWN FROM HERE." 

Tsuzuru threw up a shield with one hand and gave a very firm middle finger with the other to the two people on the ground watching. 

Izumi squinted up at them. “Mechanized birds?” 

“The best.” 

“You made them shoot lightning out of their beaks?” 

Yuzo tipped his lemonade. 

“Nice.” She bobbed her head in a nod. “So tell me more about this I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.” 

“It’s _ridiculous_. Plant-based, no artificial flavors or preservatives, zero grams of trans fats.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

Yuzo crossed himself. She frowned. 

“You’re religious?” 

“No, not at all, but I’m completely serious. I thought the gesture would just seal it in more. Are you religious?” 

“No, but Tsuzuru is. I wouldn’t do that jokingly in front of him." 

They looked back at the people on the obstacle course. Tsuzuru was dangling off of another precarious precipice, feet treading air and screaming at the top of his lungs. They watched Masumi haul him up back to stable ground. 

“You’ve got a good team,” Yuzo commented. “The entire set up with the bell at the end was to pit them against one another. But they’re still helping each other out.” 

She felt her heart swell with pride. “Yeah. We’ve got a good bunch with us.” 

“Complete monsters, though. You’re packing enough heat to probably overthrow the Council if it came to a full blown war.” 

Izumi shuddered at those words even though she wanted to laugh it off. “Don’t even say that. You’re not the first one to have that inkling and I want revolution as nonexistent on my schedule as possible. I just want—I don’t even know. I just want to teach these kids magic and maybe a few more kids who come along. As long as I’m the Director, everyone in the Coven is going to be okay.” 

Yuzo snorted. He drained his lemonade and reached for another can. “You’re just like your father.” 

She shot him a look. “Don’t even get me started.” 

“Touchy subject?” 

“ _You_ got to learn under him. I saw him maybe twice a year, sometimes Christmas if I was lucky. The last thing I want to be is just like my father.” 

Yuzo raised his palms in surrender. The subject was promptly dropped.

* * *

Kazunari was strolling around the insides of Yuzo’s house. Half just because he was bored, half because he might as well find a cute photo opportunity while he could. It was a small cottage—people would absolutely _die_ for this kind of aesthetic. If only there was a spot with decent lighting for a selfie. Maybe with him posing with a cup of iced coffee? 

He passed Yuzo’s door and paused. 

He took a few steps back. 

Sumi had told him Yuzo didn’t have any magic. That was odd, considering the guy had Runes on his door. 

Yeah, sure, maybe he convinced someone else to come by and put those in place. That would make sense, especially if he knew that the cottage was going to be filled with magicians in a few days. Kazunari probably would have done the same if he were in the trainer’s shoes. But still… a little interesting. 

He wondered if maybe the Coven was starting to be a really bad influence on him. He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and began to undo the Runes one by one. Kazunari frowned. They were all pretty old, compared to the Runes that were standard nowadays. The ones the Council had on their main building, and the one his dad used on his office? Those took _hours_ to get through. This? Maybe ten minutes. 

The last Rune shattered. 

“Bingo!” he cheered. 

He pushed the door open and, after taking one last peek down the hall to make sure no one would find him, took a step inside. 

Yuzo’s room was basically everything he’d expected from a guy who was single, living on his own, and over the age of 40. There was a desk with a computer (a _dinosaur_ , holy crap, did they still make computers that big and chunky?), a hastily made bed, and piles of clothes strewn here and there. 

Where would Kazunari hide something he didn’t want found, he wondered. He did the usual—a quick glance under the bed, a flashlight underneath the dresser. He didn’t feel like curiosity would excuse rifling through someone’s drawers, so maybe just a closet check. If nothing came up, he’d leave and forget this all happened. 

There was something in the closet. 

“What do we have here,” Kazunari sang to himself softly as he kneeled in front of the locked box. 

It was kind of like a trunk, the ones you saw in 1900s European movies. Deep green leather with copper all around the mouth and edges. He licked the pad of his thumb and ran it across the metal lining. He winced as a hot red spark flew out like a firm-spoken warning. He sat back on his heels. Something locked and absolutely swarming with enough Runes to activate at the saliva of a Caster. 

Now _that_ was interesting. 

Trying to unlock this one with his own magic would be like trying to beat a bear with a whiffle bat. Well, if he couldn’t open it using his own magic… Kazunari hummed. There _was_ someone here who knew how to pick locks.

* * *

Taichi slammed his little paws onto the bell at the end of the course and let the loud ringing wash over him. He wiped his whiskers and began scampering down the length of rope. Izumi was there in a hurry, handing him his discarded oversized hoodie and jeans. It took a little bit of maneuvering but he managed to shift back into a human without getting his head stuck in a sleeve. 

“Had fun up there?” Izumi asked, handing him a cold soda. 

Taichi cracked it open and chugged. He relished the burn of carbonated bubbles hitting his throat. “So much. Can I go again?” 

She laughed and ruffled his sweat-dripping hair. “Hold your horses, kiddo. Let’s wait for the rest of the slowpokes to catch up.” 

Taichi sat up. “I was the first one done?” 

“Yep. First one. I didn’t bring any stickers with me but I’ll smack a gold star on your forehead once we get back.” 

Izumi watched his neck, his cheeks, and then his ears turn pink. Taichi curled in a little on himself, cradling the empty soda can and smiling. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked so happy. It was a nice look on him—Taichi definitely wasn’t born with a face meant for moping. 

“It’s going to take them a while to finish up. Why don’t you go in and grab something to eat?” she said. 

Taichi glowed.

* * *

“ARE YOUR BONES MADE OF GLOWSTICKS,” Banri yelled as he hauled Tsuzuru out of a suspended pit of quick sand. 

Tsuzuru flung a Rune down at his clothes to blast the wet sand off. “So help me, Banri, I am _not_ in the mood to hear whatever smart-ass comments you have in mind.” 

“I HAVE SEEN LITERAL FUCKING FROGS ON STILTS WITH BETTER BALANCE THAN YOU.” 

Tsuzuru grabbed the boy by his shoulders and shook him. “I AM _DANGEROUSLY_ SLEEP DEPRIVED AND NOW PHYSICALLY EXHAUSTED. MAKE ME DO SOMETHING THAT’LL FORCE ME TO GO TO CONFESSIONAL, I DARE YOU.” 

“FUCK YOU!” 

Sakuya inched between the two and forced distance between them. “Hey. Hey, guys! Look, I think we’re almost at the end!” 

He pointed to a target that stretched far off. 

“Do you think we’re supposed to hit it with something?” he asked. 

Masumi frowned and shoved his way to the front, driving an elbow into Omi’s ribs. 

“Oof,” the werewolf muttered but moved to the side nevertheless. 

“Let’s see,” Masumi said flatly and took out a golden doorknob from his pocket. 

Yuki crossed his legs from Citron’s shoulder. “Do you always carry that thing with you?” 

“Whatever.” He drew his arm back and sent it flying. The doorknob clashed into the target for a dead-on-the-mark bullseye. In a flash, Masumi disappeared from sight. 

Sakuya stared at where he stood. He toed the ground. “Is… Is he d-dead?” 

“No, dumbass, I’m over here.” 

Everyone craned their necks to spot Masumi standing on a far off platform. He languidly waved. 

“I’m going ahead,” he said simply and ducked down. 

“God,” Tenma muttered, taking off one of his shoes. “I’m _not_ letting him beat me.” 

Muku glanced at him and offered a small smile. “I-I mean, Tenma, you’re rich, aren’t you? i’m sure fifty dollars isn’t that big of a loss.” 

“FIFTY DOLLARS?” Tsuzuru squawked. “YOU BET _FIFTY DOLLARS—_!” 

“It’s a pride thing, Muku,” Tenma said simply and sent his shoe flying towards the target, disappearing next. 

Banri shoved his hand into Tsuzuru’s pocket and drew out the first thing he could get his hands on. 

“BANRI, I’M GOING TO MURDER YOU, DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.” 

He threw Tsuzuru’s wallet as hard as he could despite the warning. The tattered piece of leather went trailing down to the ground, not getting half the way to its intended destination. Everyone watched it fall. 

Banri slowly turned. “Dude… did you not have anything in there?” 

“I had a handful of coins and a Subway gift card with nine dollars left on it,” the Caster said as he threw his hands into the air. “I’m sorry I’m not rich, you _republican_.” 

“Take that back, I am NOT a republican, I’m a libertarian democrat.” 

“YOU’RE A REPUBLICAN, BANRI.” 

“I AM NOT A—fuck this, I’m out of here.” Banri kicked his shoe off his foot without even looking at the target. He disappeared in a flash. 

Muku took off his own shoe and shuddered. “Gosh, I really hope this works. I-I’m going to get my shoe back after this, right? My mom won’t like it if I lose my shoes on a trip…” 

He chucked it towards the target, nicking the edge with a firm SMACK from the sole. 

“Oh, I did it!” _Pop_. Muku was gone from sight. 

Yuki nudged Citron. “Hey.” 

“Hm?” 

“What’s coming up next. You tell me and I’ll help you.” 

Citron fanned himself. “Oh, I wonder.” 

“Screw you, you knew I was going to ask anyways.” 

Citron leaned in close to one of the brownie’s pointed ears and whispered the next series of challenges they would face. Yuki nodded. 

“Okay. Take off both of your shoes.” 

“You are not going to use one of yours?” Citron questioned, doing as he was told. 

Yuki’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking, right? I _made_ these shoes. You’re going to have to pry them off my cold, dead body before I give them up willingly. Your shoes, charlatan.” 

Citron tossed up both of his shoes and Yuki flicked his finger, sending them both towards the target. The brownie and the Seer were gone in the blink of an eye. 

Sakuya nudged Tsuzuru. “Do you… want help with this?” 

Tsuzuru dragged a hand down his face. “Honestly, Sakuya, your offer to help gives me enough energy to not just lie down here and take a nap. I’ll be fine, you do your own thing.” 

“Okay!” Sakuya narrowed his eyes at the target and pointed his finger. He wanted a smaller bolt of lightning—which ran down the length of his arm and out of his fingertip just as he’d planned, but veered off course and hit something else instead. 

“ _OW! FUCK, SAKUMA!_ ” 

He cringed. “Oops! Sorry, Ten! Let me… Let me try that again.” 

Sakuya tried again and let out a victorious WHOOP when a dark smudge marked itself right in the center of the target. He disappeared. 

And thus it was three. Omi, Tsuzuru, and Homare stood on the platform. 

“Well, this is a trio I’m sure none of us were expecting,” Homare said jovially. “The weather is quite nice, isn’t it?” 

“Omi, can you go ahead for a minute,” Tsuzuru asked. 

The werewolf gave a quick salute with two fingers and took off his own shoe next. As expected, Hunter or not, sheer strength seemed to be enough to drive the boot through the air and smack a bullseye. He disappeared with a _pop!_

Tsuzuru turned and faced Homare. “We need to talk.” 

Homare sighed dramatically. He rubbed his forehead with thumb and forefinger. “Must we? Will it be dreary and dull? I so cannot stand dreary and full conversation, Mister Minagi.”

* * *

Kazunari opened the door to Itaru’s room, desire for exploration satiated. “Hey, hey! Missed me? I’m back, no worries.” 

Itaru’s head snapped up. “What in the _bleeding_ _fires of hell_ did you do?” 

“Ah? Ahaha? What?” 

Itaru’s eyes glowed hot pink as he bared his teeth. His fangs dragged themselves out of his gums, longer and sharper than before. A flame burst on each shoulder. “What did you touch?” 

Kazunari pressed himself against a wall as sudden bloodlust made itself known. “I WENT TO THE BATHROOM BUT I WASHED MY HANDS, I SWEAR. Washing hands is super important!” 

The demon threw his Switch onto Kazunari’s backpack and stood to his full height of 5’10”. He was only an inch taller than Kazunari but there was something about Angry Immortal Being From Hell That Fed Off Souls that made the inch feel so much bigger than it really was. 

“Itaru, you’re like… really c-creeping me out, dude,” Kazunari stammered. “Like, uh, you can’t—you can’t eat my soul without Sumi saying yes, right? Canyoupleasebackawayyou’rereallyscary!” 

Itaru ignored his panicked pleas. He leaned in closer and closer, nostrils flaring and pupils narrowing to just bare slits. 

“What _is that_ ,” he snarled. “You’re disgusting.” 

“Ouch! Kind of hurt my feelings, NGL, but everyone’s entitled to their own opinion, so I’m not going to make a big deal out of it!” 

Itaru seized a fistful of Kazunari’s shirt and took in a deep, repulsed inhale. His brow furrowed deeper as he sniffed down the length of one of Kazunari’s arms. 

“Weird, bro, like, you do you, I’m not gonna shame niche interests, but this is _really weird_ ,” Kazunari blabbered as the demon continued his inspection. 

Itaru raised Kazunari’s hands to his face and took one breath. 

He shoved Kazunari to the side before slamming his palms to the wall and vomiting. 

Taichi cracked the door open, hugging a jar of pickles to his chest. “Hey, uh, can one of you guys help me with— _oh my god_.”

* * *

“I’m not following your magic at all,” Tsuzuru started, ticking off the first box in his mental checklist of topics he wanted to cover in this conversation. “Or, okay, let me revise my previous statement. I’m not following the way you seem to understand magic. What’s with the weird names? The Runes you write all at once?” 

Homare stared at him like he was speaking another language. 

“Why would I write Runes one by one if I can use a finger per Rune?” he asked in return. 

“But how is that _possible?_ ” 

“How is it not possible for _you_ ,” Homare shot right back. 

Tsuzuru clenched his teeth. “Are you just going to answer my questions by asking questions in return?” 

“This is dependent on whether you’re going to continue asking nonsensical questions.” 

“How are my questions nonsensical?” he blustered. “You don’t—it doesn’t make sense.” 

Homare raised his eyebrow. He snapped his fingers and a Rune flew out of his pocket, each stroke of the character solidifying and enlarging until it formed a seat beneath him. He sat down and crossed his legs. 

“Like that!” Tsuzuru snapped, pointing his fingers. “What the heck was that? Where did that come from?” 

Homare surveyed Tsuzuru with a long, hard look. It felt reminiscent of the time Tsuzuru had gotten a scolding from his teacher in elementary school for gluing himself to the blackboard. “Mister Minagi. How sad has your knowledge of a Caster’s craft been reduced to by conventional learning?” 

“ _Excuse_ me?” 

“Your… ramblings on what is normal, what is possible, what is—" Homare cut himself off with a heavy sigh. “Frankly, my ire is all used up like oil paint. At this point, all I have remaining is a sense of _pity_. I was aware the plebeian’s knowledge of Runes was leagues beneath that of my own but this is a new low.” 

Tsuzuru was used to being insulted for so much. For not having a lot of money, for coming from a “troublesome” Bloodline by Council standards, for being a bookish nerd, and for being way too invested in the proper chronology of the Marvel Cinematic Universe that his university’s Film Club had been wholly uninterested in. But this? This was like a stab in the stomach. 

“Oh, like you’re all that,” he spat. “You don’t even abide by half the rules the rest of us do. You think you’re so smart, and so much better than the rest of us, when no one’s ever seen a single sequence published with your name. Because no Tome Binders would take your work, after you turned into the black sheep of the Arisugawa line. And you’re telling _me_ that I’m a plebeian? I’m not going to swallow the words you spit out to feed your own vanity.” 

Homare snorted as every hot insult bounced right off. “If it offers you comfort, I consider most individuals plebeians.” 

“It doesn’t! Thanks for trying.” 

The older Caster tilted his head to the side. “Rules. What rules are you even speaking of?” 

“Societal rules! Being—the kind of magician that society accepts even if you don’t have every single privilege under the sun. We might be just pathetic lesser life forms to _your_ eyes, Arisugawa, but you have no idea how much blood, sweat, and tears some of us have to put into every single action, every thought, every word, every thing we put passion into, for a _second_ of spotlight.” Tsuzuru dragged a palm down his face and sucked in a breath. He tried to tell himself to calm down. “You have _no_ clue. So stop talking down to me like you have any idea.” 

Homare pondered on this for a moment. 

“Why in the world do societal rules matter at all?” he asked. 

Tsuzuru stared at him, at the man so relaxed and patiently pensive, and couldn’t help it. He had to explode a little. “Because I would _love_ to fucking publish a grimoire one day! And a regular novel but that’s not the point right now.” 

Homare shrugged. “Alright. So do it. Why on Earth would you need to abide by the utterly capricious scruples put in place by the golems that call themselves a part of your ‘society’ to do so?” 

“Because I need _merit_ and a clean, respected reputation to get a green light from a publisher.” 

The two of them stared at each other. 

“Why?” Homare asked suddenly. “Why do you need a publisher?” 

“Wh—are you stupid?” 

“Frankly, I’m much smarter than you could possibly hope to ever fathom but perhaps your, er, fragile masculinity wouldn’t be fond of bearing the burden of those words.” 

Tsuzuru let out a noise like someone had just punched him in the neck. “Fragile masculinity. _Wow_.” 

“If you want your magic out there, you needn’t play by the rules they put in play for sheep. Hm, unless you desire to be a sheep. Perhaps a little rodent? Playing in the pathetic rat race that so thoroughly enthralls every lesser being, a rat race where they all gnash on tails and paws to see who comes out on top to get their heads bludgeoned with a mouse trap.” Homare paused. “Are you getting lost in my analogy? I can speak simpler if you prefer.” 

“You are so condescending, you make Banri look like Sakuya in comparison. Just get to your point, I am this close to begging you on my knees.” 

Homare chuckled. He got up and snapped his fingers again. The chair he sat on disappeared, bursting into red ribbons and then fading into nothingness. “If you want your Runes so desperately used, then simply do so. Tell me, Mister Minagi. Your, er… what was it called? That Rune sequence of yours you attempted earlier.” 

Tsuzuru blinked. "Full Contact Mobile Bridge Rune sequence.” 

“Where did you learn it?” 

“Volume three of Zen Kuryu’s Higher Runes of Complicated Amalgamation series.” 

Homare closed his eyes and clicked his tongue as he flipped through his memories. “Zen Kuryu. Zen Kuryu. Zeeeeen… Kuryu. Hm. No, not a bell. Bah, it’s been years, it hardly matters.” 

Tsuzuru kept staring at him. 

Homare ran his hands through his hair and then flattened the scattered wisps with no success at turning them ordered. “The point being. I created that Rune sequence.” 

“Fuck you, no you didn’t.” 

“I did,” Homare declared. “I have the notebook to prove it. I was seven years of age and I sold the thing to the first name that came knocking. I’m glad it ended up published as I’d been promised.” 

Tsuzuru felt like he was falling. He had to double check that he wasn’t, and yes, he had both feet on the platform, but then what was the explanation for the sudden drop in his stomach? 

“What are you _talking_ about? Zen Kuryu published that book—“ 

“I’d assume two decades ago?” Homare prodded. "Perhaps a few years less if he took the time to compile everything? So what. I adore the creation of sequences that defy expectations. We are _Casters,_ Minagi. Witches can play their horn of self-gratification as much and as loud as they’d like. But _we_ are the pinnacles of magic. _We_ are the ones who test the limits and forge ahead. Of course you and I share the same goals. To create. To share. To make a difference in what we adore.” 

It was like speaking to the manifestation of a mid-life crisis. 

“Hold on, just, just give me a second,” Tsuzuru said, holding up a hand. “Give me a second to—what did you just say?” 

Homare pointed a finger to the Target, sending a lazy turtle of a Rune crawling through the air. “If you put limits onto your craft, if you follow ‘rules,' then you are destroying the essence of the magic you hold so dear. You are committing homicide to the one concept worth living for. Is that not the equivalent of spitting on the feet of God?” 

“You—your name never came up in _anything_ , why would you not put your name on something you published?” 

“Do you want to put your name on your potential works, Mister Minagi?” Homare asked, staring at his Rune. 

“What? Yes, of course I do.” 

It was a hair away from the target. 

Homare laughed loudly. “Then perhaps I’m just not as vain as you are!” 

He disappeared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the selkie isn't a character from the canon if anyone was about to jump into theories
> 
> THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL COME SOONER. I JUST--IT WAS EITHER CUT THE CHAPTER OFF HERE OR WAIT ANOTHER DAY AND HAVE IT OVER 10K. I hope you liked it!!


	38. Demon Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: vomiting, blood, angst. Generally, this chapter gets dark.

Tenma slammed his hand on the bell and turned around with a ragged pant. 

“Suck it, Usui,” he spat before collapsing on the platform to catch his breath. “Oh my god, my biceps are killing me.” 

Masumi hopped onto the platform next, lips carving an ugly wrinkle into his face. “Damn you.” 

“Fork it over.” 

He reached into his pocket for his wallet and took out a crisp bill, throwing it on the platform. Tenma folded it and slipped it into his chest pocket. 

“What, you pissed off?” 

“Tch.” 

Masumi pursed his lips instead of replying fully and began climbing down the rope, not even bothering to hit the bell. Tenma sat up, supporting his weight on his palms, and just enjoyed the feeling of winning for once. It was nice. Sumeragi one, Usui zero. Maybe he’d finally go to sleep feeling good about himself for once. That’d be nice. The Coven was _crazy_ compared to what his usual schedule had been beforehand (comprised of throwing a tennis ball against a wall to himself, catching it, and then throwing it again over and over again for hours) so a moment taken for patting himself on the back was good. 

The platform shuddered as Citron backflipped onto it from a lower surface. 

Tenma squinted at him. “You’re fit?” 

Citron patted his pants. “I hope they do. Do they not?” 

“What? No, I’m not asking if your pants fit, dude, I’m—never mind. Congrats.” 

Yuki popped out of Citron’s roomy pocket and gave Tenma a harrowing glare. “I bet you feel great on that high horse of yours for finishing quickly, hm?” 

“Hey!” 

The brownie hopped down to the platform and pointed his finger at the bell, ringing it. 

“I’m done with this,” he said, rolling his eyes. He flexed his hands and then began descending the rope, climbing down it like it was a ladder. His tiny feet fit into the grooves of the rope just fine. 

Tenma craned his neck to yell, “You could have climbed up it on your own without relying on Omi, huh?” 

“Yes but rope climbing _twice_ would’ve given me calluses, carrot top. Shut up." 

He grimaced. “I don’t even like carrots…” 

Citron sat next to Tenma. “I think I will wait for Yuki to get down safely before going down as well.” 

“Sure. I’m just—enjoying the view, I guess.” 

“The view,” Citron repeated softly, staring pointedly at Banri furiously beating off a giant mechanical anaconda with his other shoe. “Well. Yes. Perhaps this is funny.” 

“BANRI, JUST LEAVE THE ANACONDA!” Izumi yelled from down below. 

“ _THIS BITCH ATE MY EARRING, I’M NOT LEAVING THE OBSTACLE COURSE UNTIL IT GIVES IT BACK_.”

* * *

Izumi clicked her tongue as she swiped her finger over Banri’s ear, trying to heal the tear in his lobe. “Next time you do something like this, I want you to take the jewelry off.” 

“I take pride in my appearance, thanks,” Banri muttered. 

“And I respect that, Banri, I really think fashion’s a fantastic way to express one’s self, but if a robotic snake can tear your cross earring clean out I’m pretty sure anything could. I just want you safe, kiddo.” 

Yuki choked a bit of a way’s off where he was sipping on a cup of Kool Aid. “You—your entire closet is flannel, basic cotton tees, button ups, and Hawaiian shirts, I _need_ you to tell me how that’s expressing yourself.” 

Izumi waved his concerns off. “It means I like a good bargain and clothes I can rely on. Says enough about me.” 

“You wear Timberlands unironically.” 

“They’re a fantastic brand of boot that I can either hike in or kick butt with, Yuki. I’ll badmouth my Timbs when hell freezes over.” 

The torn skin of Banri’s ear knitted itself back together with only a bit of scarring. Yuzo returned, arms piled high with all of the spoils left behind on the obstacle course. 

“You guys really threw away your shoes like Black Friday’s tomorrow, didn’t you, you ungrateful brats,” he commented as he dropped them on the ground. “Alright, come get your shoes and wallet and whatever else you lost. If it’s not here, tough luck.” 

They’d have a thirty minute break or so before going through the course again. Every run would come with a new limitation and, as Yuzo hoped, willingness to get physical rather than rely on just magic. 

That was the plan. 

Firmly ruined by Kazunari and Taichi running towards them at full speed. 

“Director!” Taichi yelled. “Director, Itaru needs help!” 

Sakuya dropped his Gatorade. “What? Why does—is he okay?” 

“He _vomited_.” 

“Itaru’s a demon, what do you mean he vomited?” Izumi asked. 

The changeling was twitching, jittery like he was too scared to be still. “H-He just, I don’t know, he was, I walked in when he got sick on the w-wall. Kazunari was there, he probably knows more than I do.” 

Izumi and Yuzo exchanged one look before the two of them ran towards the building. The Coven followed them as close as possible without actually nicking their trainer or director on the heels. 

Kazunari seized Yuki by his wrist, pulling him out of the crowd as inconspicuously as possible. 

“I need your help,” he whispered quickly. 

Yuki snatched his arm away. “Are you insane? This is a cotton cashmere blend, wrinkle this and I’m going to tell the Director you locked me in a cupboard.” 

“Got it, won’t do it again. I still need your help. I’m going to tell a lie but you _have_ to convince Muku not to tell anybody it’s a lie, at least for a little while.” 

Yuki narrowed his eyes. “What the hell did you do?” 

Kazunari grinned but didn’t feel it in any genuine way. “I found something really interesting in Yuzo’s room. Itaroon, um, let’s just say he didn’t react well and, you know, anything that gets a demon to be sick has me super interested. They’re going to ask what happened to him, I’m going to say I don’t know. They have to think I’m telling the truth until I can get the box in Yuzo’s closet open. I need time and Banban for that.” 

The brownie folded his arms. “What’s to say Citron won’t be able to tell? Sure, I could convince Muku but we’ve got two Seers.” 

Kazunari paused for a moment before flicking the brim of his hat. “Don’t worry about Ronron. I think I know how to get around that.” 

The two of them stared at each other. 

Yuki broke eye contact first to look at the horizon of trees where Misumi had disappeared into. “You know, for all you talk about not being as bad as Muku’s freakout made you seem, you sure have a lot of tricks up your sleeves that would make anybody worried.” 

The Caster’s smile shrank. “That a compliment?” 

“For now. I trust you as far as I can throw Omi but luckily for you, I’m curious about what you’ve found.” 

“Thanks, Yuki.” 

He walked off back towards the Coven members with his chin held high. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to convince Muku for but you’ll have a bit of time at least. And I want in on it.” 

One could never accuse Yuki Rurikawa of working slowly. He grabbed Muku and whispered in his ear, speaking low and fast with a complete poker face. Muku’s eyes widened, enough for Kazunari to tell the Seer was locking his gaze on him despite their distance. Kazunari rubbed his lips, fit a concerned expression onto his face, and then ran to catch up with the rest of them.

* * *

Sakuya was desperate. 

It was obvious in the way he nudged the Director aside without even noticing he’d done so to tear into the room first. 

“Itaru,” he managed in a panicked whimper as he rushed towards the demon curled on the floor. He helped Itaru roll to his side and desperately dabbed at the bile coating his mouth with his sleeve. “Oh my god, oh my god. Oh my god. Please tell me you’re okay, _please_ —” 

“Move,” Yuki snapped, approaching the scene at human height and shoving Sakuya with his knee. He glanced around the room, as though sizing up any potential dangers, and then trained his focus back on the demon. He placed a hand gently on Itaru's chest and checked for the rise and fall of functioning lungs. 

They watched Yuki tip Itaru’s head back and open his mouth, squinting down his throat for blockage. Two fingers slipped into his mouth, scraping away vomit. 

“First aid on a demon,” Yuzo murmured. “Who would’ve thought I’d see the day.” 

“Itaru,” Yuki spat harshly. “Are you awake?” 

He shook the hellspawn. Itaru didn’t respond. It was unnerving to see his eyes glazed over and empty. They’d never even seen him asleep before. 

The brownie pressed his other two fingers to Itaru’s neck. 

Izumi bit down on her lower lip and curled shaking fingers into fists. It was so easy to forget. She’d seen Yuki scared, juvenile, prideful, and judgmental of her fashion choices. Stuffing his face with a fruit snack too big for him. It was _so easy_ to forget they’d met the kid when he’d been on medical payroll. 

“He’s fine,” Yuki declared as he stood up and held his hands out. “Someone get me a towel, preferably a wet one. He’s just unconscious. Put him to bedrest.” 

Izumi whirled on Taichi and Kazunari. “Were you both in the room when this happened?” 

Taichi stiffened. “I came in because I needed help opening a pickle jar. I saw Itaru throw up and slump over. We put him on his side and then ran for help.” 

“One of you should have stayed behind,” Yuki snarled. “ _Never_ leave someone who’s in a vulnerable state alone. You call for help or send someone to get it but you always fucking make sure someone is by their side, you absolute _dunce_.” 

Taichi cowered under the brownie’s heated glare. “Sorry. Sorry. I won’t do it again.” 

“You better not. Go get me my fucking wet towel, Nanao.” 

He scampered away to do so. 

Sakuya gently took one of Itaru’s hands and clutched it tight. “He’s going to be okay, right?” 

Yuzo ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. “You guys… understand he’s immortal, right?” 

Citron let out a boisterous “Oop!” and grabbed a handful of Yuzo’s shirt, tugging him back. “Not the best words to speak, Yuzo. Please skim the room.” 

“Kazunari,” Izumi said. 

The Caster tapped his temple with two fingers. “That’s me.” 

“What happened.” 

Kazunari raised both his hands. “I came in the room just when Itaroon started being weird. Fangs out, man, and _super_ skittish. He was on his feet and a little, he looked a bit feral, you know? Then, blam, he threw up on the wall. Taichi came in right when he did.” 

Citron gave a quick nod to the Director. 

And neither of them noticed the tendon suddenly growing pronounced on Muku’s neck. 

“Yuzo, do you have any clue what’s going on?” Izumi asked. 

The trainer hesitated. 

“ _Yuzo_ , I need answers. Itaru’s part of the Coven. His safety and wellbeing is my responsibility even if he’d rather go back to hell than admit it.” 

“There’s the chance,” he admitted slowly, “that the wards went off. I clarified that anybody affiliated with the Coven would be fine for the week but I don’t know demon biology. It’s possible they still warded against him, just… with a delayed response.” 

Wards. Izumi didn’t know too much about them. 

She glanced at the Hunter instructor. “Tenma, the Sumeragi estate’s warded, you said so yourself. How does that work? Rune magic?” 

“Complicated Rune magic,” he said immediately. “Dad pays a fortune to all sorts of Casters to make sure the ones around the whole property are always in shape.” 

“Right.” She pursed her lips. "Homare, Tsuzuru, you’re coming with us. Yuzo, show me to the wards right now. Masumi, Tenma, I need you two to go through the forest and track Misumi down fast. Let him know what happened and have him come back as soon as possible.” 

Yuzo drew his brows together. “You’re _not_ messing with my wa—" 

“Did I _stutter!_ ” Izumi shouted, absolutely zero space in her heart left open to argument. “I said now, Kashima.” 

Yuzo held his hands up in surrender. He walked towards the door, grumbling under his breath. 

“I’m staying with Itaru, Director,” Sakuya said quietly. 

Izumi’s gaze softened. She placed her palm on the top of his head. “Yeah. Itaru’s really important to you, isn’t he?” 

“He’s a friend, Director. He’s a part of the family.” 

“‘Course, Sakuya. You stay right here.” Izumi jabbed a finger towards every other person in the room. “And if I hear a _single_ one of you all stepped out of line while we’re out, I’m going to be so upset. Got it? I'm begging you all to be good kids."

“Yes, Director.” 

“Omi, you’re in charge. Make sure none of them leave the house. Citron, you’re coming with us too to keep an eye out.” 

The group dispersed. 

Yuki glanced at Kazunari. 

And Kazunari just touched the brim of his hat once again.

* * *

“So can you do it? I know the Director told us all to stay out of trouble but come on, Banban, we really need your help here." 

Banri squinted at the lock of the trunk before taking out a wire from his boot. He’d probably need a handful more from the actual kit in his duffel bag but there wasn't any harm in just scoping the situation out a little. “I mean, _por qué no los dos_ , am I right?” 

“…What was that?” Yuki asked. 

“ _Por qué no los dos_. It was this meme that got popular after Old El Paso released a commercial in 2012, where a girl had to choose between a hard shell taco and a soft shell taco. It translates to ‘why not both’ and it’s been an important perspective to bring up when there’s tunnel-vision mentality. We can stay out of trouble and still snoop around a little, there’s no reason those two things are mutually exclusive.” 

Kazunari thought about that for a moment. It was a good ideology to tuck away for future self reminders. 

“Shame you’re a libertarian,” Yuki said snidely as he got comfortable on Yuzo’s desk chair. He snapped his fingers to open the drawers and began rifling through them. “I’d so love it if your narrative was for a better political agenda." 

“What, you’re not?” Banri asked. “Thought you’d be one too, to be honest." 

“Did you think I was? Ewwww. That’s insulting, that’s essentially calling me a republican." 

Banri ran a hand through his hair in frustration and then tied it back with an elastic on his wrist. “Libertarianism is not republicanism. I’m so fucking mad everyone thinks it is. It’s a policy undertone that drives your world views but doesn’t bind you to a party. God. I’m sorry I believe in the free market." 

“Shut up, republican.” 

“I’m going to step on you like a bug.” 

“ _Try it,_ I’ll rig your sleeping bag to be sopping wet for the rest of the week.” 

Banri slipped the tip of a wire into the lock again, trying to figure out what kind of mechanism he was dealing with. Kazunari kneeled beside him. 

“Can you teach me what you’re doing?” he asked. 

“Gimme a second, this bitch is complicated.” 

Pin tumbler for sure. He could feel all of the nicks and grooves on the inside, feel the minuscule springs contracting as he pressed his wire tip against them, but it was _different_ from normal. Usually, pin tumbler locks had all of their grooves in one straight line but this lock had them all around. What kind of damn key did Yuzo use? He needed more wires. 

Kazunari sniffed. “I think something’s burning.” 

“…Fuck.” 

Banri took the wire out and grimaced at the melted chunk of metal. “Magic fuckin’ blows sometimes, dude.” 

“Fourteen seconds.” 

“Ah?” 

Kazunari hopped to his feet. “You had the wire in there for fourteen seconds before it started melting. Do you think you’d be able to pick the lock in that time frame if we give you another shot?"

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” 

Yuki held up a manila file folder. “Hold on, Artful Dodger and Charley Bates, I just found something.” 

“Who?” Banri asked. 

Yuki and Kazunari paused to stare at him. 

“Are you serious?” Yuki deadpanned. “You don’t—you have a brain packed to the brim with the most useless trivia but you don’t know classical literature?” 

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ sorry I like to read history books instead of fairy tales, pipsqueak.” 

Kazunari chuckled and patted Banri’s shoulder. “Now, now, Banban, literature and the arts have done just as much for culture as history has.” 

“Artful Dodger and Charley Bates were two characters in Charles Dickens’s _Oliver Twist_ published in 1838,” Yuki said, eyes narrowing further. “Artful Dodger was a trained pickpocket who recruited Oliver Twist into his youth crime gang after he ran away from his abusive orphanage. Charley Bates was the Artful Dodger's sidekick. Screw you, Settsu, my reference was smart and slick and perfectly timed for the situation.” 

Banri rolled his eyes. “Stick with real people references, for fuck’s sake, thanks.” 

“ _What_ , you want me to say Bonnie and Clyde instead? They were shot to death!" 

Kazunari clapped his hands. “Hey! Guys, really loving this super fast paced dialogue, no, for realsies, thriving for it! But, uh, can we maybe focus? C’mon, Yuki, what did ya find?” 

Yuki opened the folder. “Yuzo’s got a file on Firstborn Witches.” 

Kazunari and Banri both inched closer to read over Yuki’s shoulder wordlessly. 

“Oh my _fucking_ god,” Banri muttered as he squinted at the words. “Why German? Why is it always _German_?” 

Kazunari snapped a few pictures of each page in the file and then slipped his phone back into his pocket. “These we can translate later. Let’s go grab Banban's wires.”

* * *

Itaru woke up. 

It wasn’t a pleasant rousing from sleep. It was—well, he wouldn’t know, he didn’t really _sleep_ ever. But he figured the experience must have been similar to if a human was slapped firmly across the face in the middle of a dream. His eyes snapped open and in that moment, he wished he was just dead so he didn’t have to feel the world-ripping nausea stirring his stomach. 

“Itaru? You’re awake?” Sakuya asked, voice just above a whisper. 

Itaru glanced at him and let out a disgusted scoff. “Unfortunately.” 

Sakuya handed him a cold compress. 

The demon sat up, wincing, and then dabbed his forehead with it. “How long was I out? What happened?"  


"You don't remember?"

Itaru frowned. "My memories are... foggy."

“You were out only a few minutes. Taichi and Kazunari grabbed us as soon as they could. The Director and a bunch of them are going to fix the wards that made you sick. Yuki made sure you were okay and—ah, I guess your mouth tastes bad.” Sakuya handed him an unopened diet coke. “I think fizzy things are supposed to help your stomach rest?” 

“Blegh. Diet? Seriously, Witchling?” 

Sakuya grinned apologetically and shrugged. “Sorry. I grabbed it from the ice box when I finished the obstacle course. I don’t wanna leave you alone to grab a regular coke.” 

Whatever. It would have to do. Itaru popped the tab and began chugging. The murk clogging his brain was uncomfortable to say the least. 

“You can go,” Itaru said at last. “I’m awake.” 

Sakuya shook his and drew his knees close. “No. I don’t think you should be alone.” 

“Pardon?” Itaru side-eyed him. “Witchling, I’m a being from hell. I was formed from hellfire. I feast on souls and sin. I think I will be just fine on my own.” 

He shook his head harder. “No.” 

“…Do you have a reason?” 

“I know what it’s like to be alone when you’re sick.” Sakuya drew in a slow breath and shut his eyes as he exhaled. “It’s not nice, Itaru. I guess you’re not sick often, right?” 

The demon thought. Sick? Perhaps not. He’d been stabbed, beheaded, and boiled alive in holy water a few centuries ago. But sick? Probably not. 

“I never really liked having to be alone when I was sick,” the boy confessed. “It gets miserable and… I think being sick just puts you in a bad mood as is. Feeling lonely on top of that sucks.” 

Itaru sighed. “You’re annoying.” 

“I know.” 

“I will permit this.” 

“Thank you.”

* * *

“Suck my _dick_ ,” Banri muttered to nothing in particular as he stabbed the fifth wire into the lock cogs. 

So many grooves. So many _fucking_ grooves. These were the kind of locks the Council _should_ have had in place on their precious, super secret files. God, he wished so badly he had a set of wires with Moop like Minagi’s knife, this would have been so much easier if his regular wires weren’t melting to nubs every few seconds. Note to self, find something to blackmail the ugly nerd over to get a proper magic lock picking set. 

“You talked suuuuuuch a big game about being able to do this,” Yuki muttered. “And now you’re struggling? Hmph." 

“I swear, Rurikawa, I’m seriously going to snap your goddamned motherfucking arm out of the socket for good this time if you don’t SHUT UP!” 

Kazunari sidled in-between the two of them. “Heyyyyy, guys, I’m really not good with the whole peace brokering stuff like Saku Saku so if we could maybe draw the murderous energy down a teensy weensy bit? Just a little!” 

“SHUT UP, KAZUNARI!” Banri and Yuki snapped. 

“Yikes!” 

Banri threw the fifth wire down, now as worthless as a paperclip, and reached for wires six and seven, nudging them in at the same time. Two hands? He couldn’t remember the last time he'd had to use both hands for a lock. Hell, at the rate this was going at, there was a chance he’d have to grow a third fucking arm to get the job done. What a nightmare. 

The door cracked open and all three of them froze. 

Muku popped his head in. 

“Oh, thank God,” Yuki gasped, hand over heaving chest. “I thought you were the Director. Is Omi still distracted?" 

“Yeah, he’s playing Go Fish with Taichi in the kitchen." Muku’s chin wrinkled. “You have twenty minutes before they come back. Homare and Tsuzuru are working on the Runes right now but they’re not going to find anything wrong. Of course.” 

He glared at Kazunari. 

“Because you _lied_.” 

Kazunari’s face fell. “Mukkun… c’mon, you know—" 

“I don’t want to hear it.” The Seer sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m trying… so hard to be a good person. And I always, I _always_ hated lying. And now you made me do it again. It’s because I trust Yuki and he’s my friend, Kazunari, but this isn’t p-putting you on my good list. Okay? Just letting you know."

Kazunari swallowed. His shoulders drooped. “Yeah. I get it. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not,” Banri piped up. 

Muku’s face bloomed red. “Okay, Banri! B-But I don’t… CARE about how you feel!” 

He slammed the door shut. 

A moment passed. 

Muku opened the door and ducked into a low bow. “That was really unfair and rash of me. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings by lashing out. I do care about how you feel. But you’re really mean s-so I’m not as sorry as I would be!” 

He closed the door again, softer this time. 

“That kid is so fucking weird,” Banri said. 

Yuki scowled. “Don’t talk bad about Muku.” 

_Click_. 

Banri closed his eyes and moaned loudly. “Yes. _Yes._ Fuck yes. I am better than literally all of you. My ego is so big and it keeps getting bigger because it’s justified. Fuck.” 

He drew out his wires and forced the trunk’s lid open.

* * *

Itaru hunched over and retched blood onto his lap.

* * *

CRASH. 

Taichi seized the table as it tilted over and slammed it down before it could go on its side. 

He couldn’t reach the werewolf in time. 

“Omi?!” he yelped. 

Muku kneeled down and tried to repeat what Yuki had done to Itaru. Tilt the head back, check the mouth, shake Omi, yell his name—the order might have been wrong but he was panicking.

“Taichi, he’s fine, he’s just knocked out,” Muku managed desperately. 

Taichi wasn’t listening. He covered his face with his hands and choked for air. 

There was a shift in fate. 

Muku’s face crumpled. Citron would know for sure.

* * *

Citron’s irises glowed bright blue. 

“ _Oh_ ,” he whispered to himself. “Ah… Aha. They lied.” 

Izumi glanced at him. “What’d you say?” 

“Director, we must head back immediately.” 

She hesitated. “Uhhh…” Izumi gestured to Homare and Tsuzuru, the both of them pressing their glowing hands against the barrier on Yuzo’s property. “They’re kind of in the middle of something.” 

“Now, Director,” Citron said quietly. “It is important. The kids need us." 

“Right. HOMARE, TSUZURU. Time to drop what you’re doing."

* * *

“Misumi!” Tenma bellowed, hands cupped around his mouth. “MISUMI!” 

Masumi hopped down from a tree. “Where is he?” 

“I don’t know! I don’t even know if I’ll be able to find my way back!” Tenma kicked the dirt below him. “It’s the _forest_ , all the trees look the same. There aren’t any road signs, Google Maps isn’t working on my phone because we don’t get reception here. Dammit. You remember the way back, right? Tell me you do.” 

Masumi frowned at him. “How bad is your sense of direction?” 

“Can you promise you won’t make fun of me?” 

“No.” 

Tenma made a face. “Thought so. Okay. I have kind of a bad sense of direction.” 

“…You’d die in a Costco parking lot if you didn’t have your phone on you, huh.” 

“A part of me is kind of insulted. But yeah. There’s a chance I might.” Tenma shuddered. “Costco parking lots are too big, Masumi. Why do they need to make them so big?” 

Masumi somehow, against all odds, managed to look even more unimpressed than normal. “Okay. Uh. Listen. If you ever do get lost in a parking lot, just head towards the nearest big building. Ask for a phone. Call someone for help. It’s that easy.” 

“It’s humiliating is what it is.” 

“…Is getting lost in a parking lot not? At that point, you don’t have pride to protect.” 

Tenma turned around, cheeks burning and unable to look at his student any longer. “Can we please just focus on finding Misumi?” 

“Whatever.” 

“MISUMI!” 

Masumi paused and lifted his nose into the air. He sniffed. “What is that?” 

Tenma inhaled. “What’s what?” 

“…I smell blood.” 

The two of them exchanged a single look before sprinting through the woods, Masumi and his sharper nose in the lead. They skidded to a stop at a riverbank. 

Misumi stretched a hand caked in blood towards them. 

“ _Help_ ,” he whispered shakily. Crimson flowed down his face, dripping from his soggy eyepatch. “Help… me. It h-hurts."

* * *

“ARE YOU _FUCKING WITH ME,_ ” Banri bellowed. 

He kicked the side of the trunk as hard as he could. 

“Wow,” Kazunari said, blinking at the contents. “Another box. This time with two locks!" 

Yuki pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate everything so much."

* * *

It was like waking up from a nightmare to a worser nightmare and then waking up from that to hell risen on earth. 

Izumi couldn’t lie to herself. Running into Tenma and Masumi on their way back, as they carried a limp and bleeding Misumi between the two of them, was horrifying. 

Rushing into the cottage to find Taichi hyperventilating over an unconscious Omi on the floor was worse. 

Citron seized Muku by his shoulders and shook him once. “You _knew_.” 

“Yuki told me not to tell!” Muku bawled. “He said not to, I trusted him, I didn’t know _this_ would happen, I swear!” 

“Equals, Muku, we said equals! You have to tell me the truth! I cannot help _anyone_ if I do not KNOW!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—!” 

“DIRECTOR!” 

Sakuya crashed into her, face white and cheeks slick with tears. His palms were smeared with more blood, blood that seared her skin to the point where it was agony. Demon blood. “HE’S DYING, HE WON’T _STOP THROWING UP,_ you have to help him!” 

Citron whirled around to stare at Yuzo. 

“You know,” Citron said quietly. "You know what happened."

Yuzo shivered and shoved the older Seer away. “God. Stop looking at me like that. Yeah, I can fuckin’ tell. Had a thought this could have been the case… didn’t want to think so. God. Never again. _Never_ again. Letting you all come was a goddamned mistake.” 

He stormed through a hallway and kicked his bedroom door open. 

“ _OW,_ the FUCK, you boomer!” 

_Slam_. 

_Click_. 

“LET—GO OF ME, THIS IS _COTTON CASHMERE!_ ” 

“Ouchie! Ouch! OW, Yuzo, come on, man, please, ow! My ear!” 

Banri, Yuki, and Kazunari were all dragged out of Yuzo’s room and pushed ungraciously on the ground where they toppled like human dominoes into a large pile. 

“You trained a good bunch of criminals, _Director_ ,” Yuzo spat bitterly. “This the kind of Coven you’re prideful of running?” 

Izumi clenched her jaw. 

Banri Settsu had fought a Chimera and gotten a gaping hole in his stomach stitched shut while fully conscious. He took one look at Izumi Tachibana’s white face, quivering pupils, and flaring nostrils, and thought to himself, _Yeah, I’d rather go through that again_.

* * *

“I should expel all three of you,” she said quietly, legs crossed. “I should _expel_ the three of you, have Tsuzuru lock every memory of the Coven away, and pay someone to ward the dorms of you three forever.” 

“We didn’t know this was going to happen,” Kazunari tried desperately. 

Citron chuckled and tapped the desk separating them with his finger. Tsuzuru, Director, and him on one side. The instigators on the other. “Muku was right. In all my time as a Seer, Kazunari, I have never seen someone lie without a charm and convince me. Interesting." 

Izumi licked her chapped lips, trying so hard not to drown in fury. “If we can’t have Citron keep a track of what’s going on, that’s a risk. This Coven is a home and a safe haven to people who need it. If you’re willing to throw that away because you want to be stupid, then fine. But I’m not going to have you put the others who are willing to stay in line at risk. What you three did was—I can’t even begin. I don’t know _where_ to begin.” 

“You understand,” Tsuzuru broke in, “that your actions led to three people in this Coven completely incapacitated, right? If Yuzo hadn’t shut that chest, if—Jesus H. Christ, Kazunari. Misumi was pouring blood like a fucking bucket when they dragged him in. You could have _killed_ him.” 

Kazunari somehow went whiter. 

“What do you have to say for yourselves,” Izumi asked at last. 

Banri missed the yelling. The yelling after the Hyodo Cousin Freak Out months ago was so much better than this. 

“Just one thing,” Yuki said, raising his face. “Yuzo Kashima had a box with something that managed to make a Witch, a werewolf, and a _demon_ get like that. That doesn’t make you raise an eyebrow?” 

Izumi slammed her palm on the table. “ARE YOU _JOKING_ , YUKI?” 

The brownie dropped his face again and sealed his lips. 

“You could have done ANYTHING ELSE. _ANYTHING_. You willfully went behind all of our backs to fulfill your curiosity on your own. If you had suspicions of something going on, there was absolutely nothing stopping you from pulling me or any of the teachers aside to confide in us WITHOUT Yuzo involved. But the three of you, without any of the authority of the Coven, went of your own accord. You lied to us and you hurt the Coven in consequence. 

“Have I been too lenient with you all? I let the Council break in during my arrest slide because you did that with Taichi’s best interest in mind, while we were on a time crunch and when the Coven was in danger and Citron and I weren’t there to make decisions. THIS? This was absolutely inexcusable." 

“I’ll do anything to stay,” Kazunari said suddenly. 

Tsuzuru opened his mouth. 

“No. Tsuzuru. Please. _Please_. Just let me talk.” 

Tsuzuru closed his mouth. 

Kazunari cracked his knuckles. The crunch of his joints did nothing to appease his anxiety. “I’m—I’ll do anything. Anything. Just please let me stay here. I know what I did was wrong. I know I shouldn’t have lied to Citron. I don’t—my head said I had to do this on my own, my head always says do the important things on my own, that’s how my head _works_ , b-but it’s not like I hate you guys or I’m—it’s not like I’m trying to—I’m not…” 

He suddenly clamped down so hard on his lip, they could see his teeth sinking through the flesh and drawing blood. 

Kazunari wiped it away and took in a deep breath. 

“You need us,” he said flatly. 

“ _Excuse_ me?” Izumi blustered. 

He shrugged. “It’s the truth. You’re smart, Director. Emotionally driven but also smart. So are you two.” 

Kazunari spared both Tsuzuru and Citron a glance each before turning his focus back to Izumi. 

“Weigh the pros and cons. Regarding the current climate the Coven is in with the Council and Sakuya’s upcoming quest date, you can’t afford to cut three affiliates. I know how memory charms work. I have precautionary measures put in place, I’ve had them in place since the day I met Sumi and I realized I’d rather lose a leg than any memories. Tsuzuru, Homare, you could have both of them pile as many blocks as you want in my head. I’m going to remember eventually.” 

“Bullshit,” Tsuzuru spat. 

“Is it?” Kazunari asked bitterly. He held out a hand for Citron. “You wanna probe and check how many counters I have in line when it comes to memory?” 

Citron didn’t touch him. 

Kazunari drew his hand back. 

“You’re bluffing because you’re mad but you’re not going to expel us,” the Caster announced. 

“Kazunari, you’re treading on dangerous ground right now,” the Director warned. “You’re really making me regret having doubted Muku so much.” 

He took his hat off and placed the fedora on his lap. It was unnerving to see him slack-faced when he was usually charged with so much expression. 

“I’m being honest like you wanted me to, even if I don’t like it,” was all he said. “Yuki’s the centerpiece of your current framework of a new Coven. Taichi? Omi? Mythics, sure. Neither of them are as good of a poster child as Yuki is about the re-direction you’re taking Mankai in.” 

Izumi wondered if her molars were cracking under the pressure. “Yuki was never a poster child.” 

“Maybe you genuinely don’t think of him that way but that doesn’t mean he’s not. Image, Director. Image is everything in magic society. Tsuzuru knows. Don’t you?” 

Quiet. 

Kazunari cleared his throat and continued. “Banri, well, he’s blessed. To be completely frank with you, I don’t think a memory alteration would work on him. I’m pretty sure _everything_ regarding Banri is a total _Deus ex Machina._ ” 

“Lidocaine doesn’t work on Banri,” Yuki added. “Anesthetics in general don’t work on him. I would bet everything I own that anything that alters his mind or his body chemistry wouldn’t work.” 

The blessed boy in question shrugged. “Meh. Sounds legit. I wouldn’t know but I wouldn’t doubt it.” 

The room was deathly quiet again. 

“This kind of feels like you’re threatening me,” Izumi said as she leaned her elbows on the table. “Are you?” 

Kazunari shrugged just once. “No. This isn’t a threat. It’s the truth. We’re sorry, Director. We’re going to accept any punishment you have because we messed up and we hurt people in the Coven. We can accept that.” 

“We?” Banri muttered. 

Yuki slammed his heel on Banri’s foot to shut him up. 

“We’re going to accept any punishment,” Kazunari repeated. “But we’re going to be in the Coven and we’ll be completely honest with you about everything. Have Muku handcuffed to me or something. And I need you to know that whatever Yuzo has in his closet is something so monstrous, and critically important to understand, that we’ll regret not getting to the bottom of it. But if you really choose to ignore that, then I’ll abide by your decision. 

“That’s… That’s all I’ve got.” 

Kazunari slumped over and rested his face in his hands, eblows propped up on his knees. 

Izumi sighed and leaned back. Her headache felt like her skull was going to split into two pieces. 

“Tsuzuru?” 

No response. 

“Citron?” 

A shrug. 

“Probation,” Izumi said at last, tired and desperate to retreat somewhere in private so she could just cry. And cry. And then pick herself up as always. “The three of you are going back to the Coven’s main dorm tomorrow morning with Homare and Citron and—and the people who are sick. The three of you are going to tend to Misumi, Omi, and Itaru hand and foot. I don’t trust the three of you to stay here. I'm pretty sure Yuzo won't _let_ you stay here. I'm going to have to beg him on my knees to let half of us stay even. Yuki, Kazunari, I’m sending letters out to your parents.” 

“No." 

Izumi held up a finger. “Don’t. You. Dare. Rurikawa. Don’t.” 

Yuki pursed his lips until they were white. 

“Yuzo’s box,” Banri said bitterly. 

“No longer your jurisdiction to think about. Leave that to us. And you, Banri?” 

He flinched. 

“We’re telling your parents. I’m not having you a part of this Coven off leash anymore.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Not up for discussion.” 

“You can’t—!” 

“I respected your right to keep magic a secret from them until you lost that right with this episode,” Izumi hissed. “Get out of my sight.” 

The three boys stood and filed out. 

Izumi waited for the door to close until she finally sobbed. And all she had to hold her in that moment was Citron’s shoulder and Tsuzuru’s hand on her back.

* * *

“Good night,” Tsuzuru said as he swept towards the room. 

“What about dinner?” 

“Not hungry.” 

_Slam._

Izumi stared at the shut door and then at the others. 

“What happened to him?” she asked. 

All of them shrugged. 

She looked at Citron. _What happened to him?_

Citron winced but then let a comfortable smile slide over his face, as much of a mask as something carved from marble. 

“Director, would you like to take a walk with me?” he asked politely. 

"Homare, you’re in charge while Citron and I go on a walk and have a chat.”

“Oh my!” he said dramatically. “In charge! Wonderful, I’d always—" 

Citron cleared his throat and nudged Izumi’s elbow. “That is not the best future to go towards, Director.” 

“…Okay, uh, Tenma, you’re—" 

“Director, no.” 

Izumi ran her fingers through her hair, feeling frustrated. “Good lord. Sakuya, you’re in charge.” 

Sakuya straightened his back, shaking himself out of his stupor. He was still as white as a sheet but doing marginally better after having been reassured that Itaru was alive, no longer vomiting, and would return to the Coven for proper treatment the following morning. “Yeah, of course, Director! Have a good walk, um, let us know if you need any help.” 

“The future is completely safe, Sakuya,” Citron reassured him as he dragged Izumi outside. 

Yamagata had such crisp, calming air. Too bad she was too stressed to appreciate it. 

“Something happened to Tsuzuru on the obstacle course,” Citron told her in a soft voice. “His heart is broken, Director. The events today did not help." 

Izumi paused. She pursed her lips and tried to sort through that. “So… did someone break up with him on the obstacle course? You need to explain this to me a little less cryptically, sorry. My head’s killing me." 

“Worse than a lover, Director, it’s the true love of his life.” Citron glanced over Izumi’s shoulder at the cottage. “His passion. Something has… interrupted Tsuzuru’s unshaken faith in working hard. Doing what he likes. He’s thinking of it but…” 

“But?” she prodded. 

Citron gave her a sad smile. “Tsuzuru always thinks very quickly. I cannot keep up with it well. I am getting more… emotion than actual thoughts but none of the emotions are good. We have seen him tired, we have seen him angry. We have seen him upset. We have never seen him broken hearted.” 

“It’s that bad?” Izumi asked, voice soft. 

“You should speak to him, Director.” 

Izumi pressed her lips together and thought on it for a moment. She poked Citron in his chest. 

“You know what? I think you should talk to him, actually.” 

“Ah? Pardon?” 

Izumi sighed but forced herself to grin, even if it was half-heartedly. “Tsuzuru can be a little… You know he’s got pride. Lots of pride. It’s what drives him to put so much work into everything and keep on top of it all, even if the workload would have killed someone else. He’s going to try really, really hard to put up a face in front of me and push me out. You, on the other hand—Tsuzuru’s smart enough to know _you_ know what’s going on.” 

“Director, I do not think that would be the best idea,” Citron said. 

“Why?” She reached up with her two pointer fingers and pressed the corners of Citron’s lips into a smile. “I believe in you. Tsuzuru would never admit it but he likes your big ol’ smile and playing the straight man. Give him a role to play.” 

Citron’s smile stayed when she took her hands away but it was definitely more pained than what she’d shaped. “Director, Seers nudge things one way or another. We do not directly confront. That is not how we do things.” 

“Buuuuullshit, Citron. Banri’s zombie apocalypse episode was hardly you nudging things. I saw you jab an undead so hard in the chest their ribcage caved.” She flicked him on his forehead. “What’s going on with you? You’re normally never this hesitant.” 

Citron looked around them, frown deepening. “I feel on edge. I cannot put my tongue on it but there is something off about here.” 

“Finger, Citron, you can’t put your finger on it. You shouldn’t be putting your tongue on anything besides food.” 

“Director, I am not… _good_ at confrontation. Seers rarely are.” Citron sighed softly. “Seers are too empathetic. We get… _swept_ into the emotions of others. The stronger, the more hysteric those emotions, the worse we are at keeping a clear head. It would be better if Tsuzuru speaks to someone with a strong will.” 

Izumi kissed her teeth, eyes rolling up to the night sky. “Strong will…” 

A pause as an option she didn’t like, but admittedly was the best one, came to mind. 

She and Citron spoke in unison. 

“Yuki.”

* * *

_Knock_. 

“Go away,” Tsuzuru moaned into his make-shift pillow, a bundled up jacket. 

The door opened. Yuki walked in looking woefully unimpressed. 

“I was warning you of my coming in, not asking for permission, idiot,” he deadpanned. “Director sent me in to talk to you. Something something existential-crisis-slash-angst. I would have said no but she had that look in her eyes."

Oh, that was every kind of insulting. Sending in a fourteen year old to talk to him in his time of strife? The one that they’d just almost expelled, nevertheless. It was a little more hurtful than usual. 

“Talk,” Yuki ordered. 

“No. Can you please get out?” 

He sighed with his eyes rolled back, oozing spiteful frustration. “I’m not a Seer. I don’t know what’s going through your head if you don’t tell me. Can you just get it over with?” 

“I really don’t want to talk about it right now, Yuki. Kind of not to you especially." 

Yuki stared at him, slowly tilting his head to the side. “Alright. So what? You’re just going to stay sad and mopey, keeping it all in until you can’t?” 

“Just—no, I’m not going to do that.” Tsuzuru sat up and wiped his face, trying to rid himself of the feeling of grime and misery. “I’ll be fine. I just need some time to think things through on my own.” 

The brownie clicked his tongue. “You’re _not_ thinking things through on your own, though. If you were, Citron wouldn’t be standing outside the door like a worried mother goose. On that note…” 

Yuki pointed at the door which opened for a split second before slamming shut. Citron on the other side yelped. 

“Get out, charlatan, I thought we agreed this would be between just me and him!” he snapped. 

“Right, right. I will go help Yuzo with the potato salad.” 

They listened to his slippers pad away. Yuki turned back to Tsuzuru. 

“Can you please just tell me why you look like you’re about to blast Adele on a bluetooth speaker and gorge yourself on mint chocolate chip ice cream? Please? I’d love to have one night in this Coven where I can get some beauty sleep and not have to drink coffee as soon as I wake up, my growth is stunted as is.” 

“I always thought I wanted to make something great...” Tsuzuru started quietly. He looked at his palm and then brought it to his eyes, covering them. “I don’t know, Yuki. I wanted to write, and publish something. I’d always thought… I’d always thought that that was the only way to know for sure that I’d made it. And that having the Minagi name on something that’ll last for _years_ and that everyone will _learn from_ would be incredible. But—But Arisugawa’s right, you know? Wanting my name on a book is selfish. And egotistical. Maybe I wanted to be as respected by people as much as I respected other Casters.” 

He dragged his hand down. Yuki half expected him to be crying, but Tsuzuru only seemed tired. 

He was always tired, though. 

“That’s so stupid,” Yuki said. 

“I know, I _know_ it’s stupid and selfish—“ 

“No, you cuck, I’m saying that thinking you’re selfish for wanting to put your name on something you made is stupid.” Yuki took off his cropped cardigan and smoothed out the wrinkles from the obstacle course before showing Tsuzuru the back tag. There, embroidered with soft green thread, was _Rurikawa_ in perfect script. “I put my name on everything I make. I’m not selfish for doing this. It’s _right_ for me to want my name on my creations.” 

Tsuzuru stared at Yuki’s surname and then shook his head. “It’s different.” 

“Is it? Listen to me, Background Character. You’re a writer, right?” 

“Haven’t published anything but—" 

Yuki made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “Damn you. Publishing, signing a contract, official blah blah blah. None of that means anything. You write. I make clothes. You’re a writer. I’m a fashion designer. That’s that.” 

Tsuzuru took in a deep breath through his nose. “I guess.” 

“So you want to publish sequences with your name on it. Shouldn’t you be prideful of your work?” Yuki put his cardigan back on and waved vaguely. “Don’t you want to make your mark in the world? ‘Hey, look at this thing I made. Me. _I_ made this, this is _my_ work, and it was impressive enough that through whatever means necessary, it has reached your eyes.' Have some pride. Loving what you do and what you make doesn’t make you selfish, it makes you an artist.” 

“Homare doesn’t think of it that way,” Tsuzuru whispered. He drew his knees to his chest. “There’s this guy I looked up to since I was a kid. Zen Kuryu.” 

“The Caster?” 

“You know him?” 

“I’m pretty sure the Caster my family buys glamours from are a cousin branch of his.” 

Tsuzuru nodded. “Yeah. Him. Zen Kuryu’s entire calling card is that he’s a genius who published _countless_ sequences he thought up of all on his own. Homare said… he said he sold a sequence to him. Zen Kuryu published it as his own. And with that revealed, who knows how many more he’s ripped off.” 

His lower lip quivered dangerously. 

“So?” Yuki scoffed. 

Tsuzuru let out an empty chuckle and wiped his misting eyes. “I really wish I could be as flippant as you are about this. I don’t know why it’s tearing me up so much the more I think about it. It’s so weird to think the guy I idolized so much growing up is a sham and had _ghostwriters_. I wanted to be just like him… Smart, respected. I kind of wanted, like, bright eyed Caster kids coming up to me at events asking for _my_ signature on a book one day. It’s embarrassing to admit it, but it’s true.” 

“And now you feel like you’d be doing the same? Setting them up for the disappointment you’re going through?” Yuki prodded. 

Tsuzuru let out a noise that was halfway between a gag and a dry sob. 

“Now _that_ is _so fucking stupid_ , Minagi.” 

“Is it really?” 

“Just because you idolized Zen Kuryu doesn’t mean you’re going to follow his path footstep by footstep and repeat the same mistakes he’s made. If anything, get angry about it. Loathe what he’s done to the craft. Swear you will _never_ be the same and you know what? Promise all those hypothetical future Caster kids slobbering over your sequences that you _won’t_ hurt them.” Yuki straightened the bow on his shirt and sniffed. “That’s how you win, Tsuzuru. Not crying about every single thing in the world that sucks. Well, no, you can cry about it for twenty-four hours but any more than that and it’s a waste of time. You embrace the fact that you’re young, that you’re different, and you promise to be better than everything and everyone that’s come before you.” 

The Caster wet his lips and let the words spoken by a juvenile voice sink into his mind. 

He was suddenly overcome with the urge to burst out laughing. So he did. He laughed until his midsection twinged with hurt and then laughed some more. He wiped his eyes again. 

“I really don’t know how you’re like this when you’re fourteen,” he managed to croak at last. “Hoooo boy. I have two brothers just, like, a year older than you. Noboru and Suberu. They’re twins. They got in trouble just half a month ago for turning all of their homeroom teacher’s pencils into asparagus because they were pissed. How do you have such a clear head?” 

Yuki rolled his eyes. He was smiling, though. “Because I’m sick of being shit on, Tsuzuru. I _know_ I’m destined for greatness one day and I really hate the idea of ignorant jackasses convincing me I’m not. So there are some things I absolutely refuse to budge on and… yeah, I guess having super firm beliefs means that I had to spend a lot of time ironing them out to be perfect.” 

“Wise beyond your years. Maybe you’re an old soul like me.” 

“Ewwwww, ew, ew, ew, don’t call me old _ever_ again, ewwwwwww.” Yuki flicked off non-existent dust from his shoulders and then started walking out the door. “I’m going to tell the Director and Citron you’re fine and I’m _not_ going to lie. You have until tomorrow to cry and be super emo but if you’re not willing to grit your teeth and smell the roses by sun up, I’m going to kick your butt.” 

Tsuzuru shook his head. “If anyone’s gonna do it, I really would bet it’d be you. Thanks, Yuki.” 

“Whatever.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're starting off october strong


	39. Golems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter: unhealthy co-dependency, lost limbs (not permanent)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two fanarts!!! Thank you so much to both artists for their incredible work, and please check them out! Both are of Misumi, which I am so exorbitantly happy about ( T T )
> 
> https://twitter.com/shockyky/status/1313620680441843715?s=20
> 
> https://twitter.com/Prince_0612X/status/1314506389851566081?s=20

Itaru opened his eyes first. 

Banri was the first thing he saw. 

So, obviously, this wasn’t the most pleasant way he could have rejoined the world of the living, in retrospect. There was something even worse, even more infuriating and degrading, about the fact that he was tucked snugly into a bed like he was some newborn babe. 

Itaru shut his eyes and sighed, a low and pained noise. “Damned blessed.” 

“Those are antonyms, bro.” 

“What happened? This is an unprecedented event that happened twice.” 

Banri shrugged and held up a bowl of oatmeal. “We opened a box in Yuzo’s closet and you died or whatever.” 

Itaru sniffed the air, eyes still shut, and confirmed that his first thought had been correct. He was back in the Coven’s dorms. 

“Was I unconscious for an entire week?” he demanded. 

“Nah. Director got pissed off and sent us home early with the sick.” 

Itaru’s eyebrow twitched. Sick. Plural. “Who else.” 

“Misumi and Omi.” 

“What the hell was in that box?” 

Banri just shrugged and then held up the oatmeal again. “There was another box inside of the first box. Whatever’s inside, Yuzo wants that shit hidden more than a secret gold vault in Switzerland.” 

“A pardon?” 

“Gold vaults in Switzerland. Secure.” 

Itaru had been in a room alone with Banri for about 2 waking minutes and he was already getting irritated enough to choke down the urge to just kill the boy. But… blessed. Unfortunately. That meant he was out of bounds. 

At least, unless Itaru was ordered to kill him directly. 

He rubbed his forehead and winced when an unfamiliar piercing pain swelled up. One would have thought that playing video games for sometimes forty hours in a row before he retired for food or water would be enough to build his resistance. That, or the whole immortal thing. 

“They’re still out cold. Dude, are you going to eat the fucking gruel or am I going to have to funnel it down?” 

Itaru glared at him. “I dare you.” 

Banri stirred the porridge with the spoon before putting it back down on the bedside table. He looked glum. “Don’t test it. I’m on thin fuckin’ ice according to the Director. You know she told me she’s calling my parents when she comes back? They’re gonna be mad as shit. You know how to do memory magic or whatever?” 

“No. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” 

“Thought so.” 

“Is the summoner and werewolf alright?” 

“They’ll be fine. The bleeding stopped. For Misumi, at least. Fushimi didn’t have any signs of bleeding from what we could tell, the guy was just out like a light.” 

Itaru finally sat up and shifted around to untuck himself. “So. What now?” 

“Now?” 

He shrugged. “I’m assuming from your words that the Director didn’t bring everybody back. Is it just you and the people who were stricken ill?” 

“Rurikawa and Miyoshi too. Uh, and the Citron guy. Matsukawa basically went AWOL the second we entered, something something going on a quick trip with Kamekichi to a museum in another province.” 

Itaru clicked his tongue. “Perhaps some peace and quiet.” 

Banri nudged the bowl over again. “Eat the fuckin’ porridge, bro. Director’s going to kill me if she thinks I neglected my orders or whatever. Bitch is fuckin’ _scary_ when she wants to be.” 

Scary, Itaru mused. It was difficult to imagine the Director being scary in any capacity. Maybe the blessed just needed to stay in the dorms to realize she had a habit of trying to grab things with her feet when she was comfortable on the couch. That made it a little difficult to be intimidated by her. A handful of days until they came back, huh? Perhaps the Coven would be quiet for a while longer.

* * *

Yuzo scratched his head. “We lost three of your damn students.” 

Izumi poured herself a cup of hot coffee and threw it back until it nearly scalded her tongue. She slammed the mug back down onto the table, rattling the brittle wood. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “We did.” 

“Who’ve we got now? The Firstborns.” 

“Sakuya’s the main focus with the quest coming up.” 

Yuzo crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair to stare up at the ceiling. “This time crunch is insane. You know that, right? Students are supposed to be learning for at least a couple of years before they graduate. The Council doin’ this sorta test just because he’s eighteen sounds like a crock of shit.” 

“I know.” 

“You really pissed the Council off this time.” 

She rolled her eyes, too tired to argue fully. “They had it out for us first. I was so, so willing to play by the rules if they were fair. Mayor Reni’s been hellbent on trying to shut the Coven down since day one and I don’t know why.” 

“What happens if the Coven’s shut down?” 

“Ah?” 

Yuzo shrugged. “I doubt they’re just going to force the kids to go live amongst magic-less. Especially not the Firstborns.” 

She couldn’t even be bothered to hide the wince that overcame her face. “It’s a new concept. The current plan would be that if Mankai Coven isn’t up to date and capable of teaching their students… Well, there’s no need for us to exist. The charter’s going to get torn up and Sakuya and the others are going to have their education overseen directly by the Council.” 

“I don’t like the sound of that kind of power in their hands.” 

Izumi shrugged. “None of us do.” 

“I don’t trust ‘em." 

“As if you can say anything.” 

Yuzo raised his eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

“Come on, Yuzo. You’re hiding something, that much is obvious.” 

“ _So?_ ” 

It was a long shot. “Your little box of wonders managed to knock out _three_ people who are supposed to be protected under my name. Don’t I have a little bit of a right to know what that is?” 

“The only reason why that happened was because you couldn’t keep your damn eye on the fucking weasels from poking around where they shouldn’t have.” 

And a miss. She raised her palms in a clear surrender and decided to change the subject. 

“Plans for today? Obstacle course again?” 

Yuzo made a face. “It _was_ supposed to be the obstacle course again. It was to get a sense of where all of your students and teachers were and get a little exercise incorporated along the way. Unfortunately, since the numbers are off now, we’re going to go straight to the third phase.” 

“Third phase,” Izumi echoed. “And… that would be?” 

“We’re gonna have your students fight you.” 

Izumi pursed her lips, opened her mouth, and then closed it. She leaned her chin on her hand. “Come again?”

* * *

“I don’t like this,” Tsuzuru muttered to her. “I don’t like this at all. This isn’t… Come on, Director.” 

“It’s just a simulation,” she said softly, unable to tear her eyes from the small ring set up with fence posts. “Trust me, I didn’t like it at all when he told me either. But Yuzo raised some good points.” 

“Points being?!” 

Izumi gave him a woeful look. “We can’t trust Reni. There’s nothing saying he’s not going to go for a psychologically stressing route. In fact, after everything with Taichi, I think, I think that’s going to end up a lot more likely than anything else.” 

Tsuzuru didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know if there _was_ anything he could put together in reply. He shuddered and shifted the Melpomene mask on to cover his face. 

“I still don’t like this no matter how good of a reasoning there is,” he said. 

Izumi tucked her ponytail inside her hood and slapped on the Thalia mask she’d been handed. “Same.” 

The two of them headed for the woods. 

Yuzo drew a line in the sand in front of the three Firstborns and Taichi. 

“Your objective is to find either Director, Arisugawa, Minagi, or Sumeragi,” he told them. “Stay within the borders of the forest’s wards at all times. There are some pixies that like to float around berry bush clusters. Annoying little bastards, can’t get rid of ‘em no matter how many Runes I order up. Ignore them, all they do is bite and leave little nasty red marks.” 

“It’s not going to actually be that easy, is it?” Masumi asked with an ugly little scowl on his face. 

“Hold your horses, brat. ‘Course it’s not going to be that easy. What, you think this is magic kindergarten or some shit?” Yuzo tapped his foot on the ground and the earth beside him shifted. A figure rose, forming from the clay and dirt as it grew and grew. “These things will be crawling all over the place. Got most of ‘em fitted with wigs of whoever they were closest in size to. They’ll make it a little harder to get the job done.” 

Sakuya gaped at the dirt-comprised mannequin. “How did you… I thought you didn’t have any magic?” 

“Don’t. You can get these specially ordered from Casters to help do manual labor for farms and shit. Just asked someone I knew for a favor to lend me some of ‘em for the week.” Yuzo clapped the doll on its back. “We call ‘em golems.” 

“They’re husks,” Muku said quietly, unable to tear his eyes from one of them. There was something eerie about how they were faceless yet so… lifelike in every other way. 

“What was that? Yeah, sure. Husks is appropriate. No souls, they just move around and do whatever they’re told until their magic runs out.” Yuzo gave them all a firm glare. 

"Now, keep one thing in mind. I told these guys to give you lot hell upon getting their masks taken off. All of ‘em are going to be either wearing a crying or a happy mask, your teachers included. Take ‘em off, get the wrong one, and they’ll break your arms.” 

Taichi drew back and clutched his biceps. “Literally?!” 

“Maybe. I told ‘em to stop before major blood loss or death or permanent damage, so who knows?” Yuzo guffawed like he’d said something funny. No one else laughed. “Four teachers in the woods. Four of you. You either find a teacher and bring them back or you stay in the woods until nightfall. And trust me on this one, you don’t want to be out in these forests after the sun’s down without a handful of amaranth to keep certain monsters at bay.” 

“Amaranth?” Sakuya asked. 

Taichi made a face. “It’s this gross, like, grain-y veggie thing. Mayor Reni says mythics hate them and said I shouldn’t go near any." 

“Helions hate ‘em too.” The trainer’s face soured. “Not like there’s a difference between some of you though. Rules, rules, uh, right. No helping each other. The second you lot hit the trees, I want the four of you to split. Get creative with your different types of magic. The teachers and the golems aren’t going to react until you ask them to take their masks off and… well, you can imagine how it’ll go if you get a golem. Now get cracking.” 

Masumi shrugged his headphones on and raised a hand. “Yo. Can I break them?” 

“The golems?” 

“Yeah.” 

Yuzo snorted. “Good fuckin’ luck. These bastards are built like brick.” 

Masumi rolled his eyes. 

Yuzo reached for his whistle and blew into it. The shrill screech echoed through the entire expanse. They watched the whistle drop from his lips. 

“That was a cue for you to get started,” he snapped. 

Sakuya straightened his back. “Oh! You mean… like now!” 

“Yes. Now.” 

The four of them exchanged looks and walked slowly towards the woods. 

“Did you bring any fruit snacks with you?” Taichi asked Sakuya. 

The Witch grinned and reached into his pocket for the little cellophane packet. Yuzo rubbed his forehead. These kids had no idea what they were getting into.

* * *

“So… I guess we’re supposed to say goodbye to each other?” Muku asked nervously as he kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. “I’m kind of sad he said we can’t help. I think we’re b-better as a group!” 

“Bye.” Masumi launched himself into a tree branch and disappeared from sight, leaving only the sounds of the rustling canopies as he leaped from bough to bough above their heads. 

Muku wilted. 

Sakuya patted his back. “I’m sure you’re going to do just fine, Muku. Probably better than me, anyways, since you can tell if they’re a golem or a person just from looking, right?” 

“It’s still a little scary to go through the forest by myself…” Muku ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends. “Ahhh, no, that’s so s-scary! Didn’t he say something about pixies? And biting? I don’t want to get bitten! W-What if they have sharp teeth and they start getting a taste for my flesh? I don’t want to be eaten alive in the woods! It’s not like I deserve a _better_ fate or anything like that, it’s just scary!” 

“Muku, c’mon, you’re panicking. You’re going to do great, you know Citron’s super proud of you.” 

A wrinkle grew pronounced in the young Seer’s brow. He touched the tips of his index fingers. “I think Mister Citron’s mad at me again.” 

“You… did lie to him.” 

“I didn’t lie! Yes, I did. I lied. I didn’t tell him the truth and that’s lying.” Muku put his face in his hands and groaned. “I didn’t _mean_ —Yuki told me to just trust him on this one and I did. I looked into the future too! I didn’t see anything bad… maybe I’m losing my touch. Oh gosh, do you think magic runs out with time? Am I going to get kicked out of the Coven?!” 

Sakuya wasn’t sure exactly what to say so he settled for simply patting him on his back once more. “You’ll do great, Muku! Do you think you can look into the future and see where I can find one of the teachers?” 

Muku shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that exactly… There are too many variables in this kind of thing.” 

“Ah. That makes sense.” Sakuya pointed down a twisting row of trees. “I’m going to go that way. You can go the other. If you get scared, we can meet up here every hour or so, that way you don’t get really lost.” 

Taichi rubbed his face. “I’d really like to turn into a bird and see from the tops. That would make this a whole lot easier.” 

“Why don’t you?” 

His face burned red. “I, uh, I’d probably lose my clothes. Turning back would suck.” 

“Oh.” Sakuya cleared his throat and gave Taichi a thumbs up. “Good luck!” 

“Thanks.” 

The three of them exchanged one last look before departing.

* * *

Masumi crouched down on the branch and squinted below. There, sitting on a rock, was a human figure covered in a black cloak. Mask on, the smiley comedy one, and the barest flash of magenta hair beneath the hood. Obviously Homare. 

Or supposed to be Homare, anyways. 

“Hey,” he called. 

No response. 

“I know it’s you.” 

No movement. 

Probably a golem then. He stood back up straight and prepared to launch himself at the next branch but found himself hesitating. He didn’t spend a lot of time talking to Homare if he could help it, the guy was kind of weird. He didn't know Homare that much but he seemed kind of like a bastard. There was nothing saying Homare _wouldn't_ lie about not being a golem. That was one of the rules too, right? Masumi had to ask. 

He dropped down to the ground and frowned. The trainer guy had said no weapons. Not even the doorknob. But Masumi wanted _something_ in case things went to shit. He reached for the closest, fist-sized rock and tossed it to himself, testing the weight. 

“Arisugawa,” he called. “…Take off your mask.” 

The figure reached up and took it off. 

Masumi clicked his tongue. Faceless. And the wig was tacky. 

The golem lunged for him, rocketing off of the boulder it sat upon like a spring. 

“Holy _shit_.” 

He lobbed the rock as hard as he could but hadn’t been ready for the damn thing to be so fast. He kicked off of the ground, reaching for the nearest tree branch and swinging over it to get proper footing. 

He watched the golem jump and barely miss. 

“Loser,” he said snidely. 

The golem threw its hands onto the tree’s trunk, the soft clay of its fingers digging into the bark. It began to climb, way too fast to be human and with sloppy abandon like a zombie. 

Masumi watched the golem’s face split into a sideways seam, tearing a mouth-like fracture open to show tiny stones of teeth. A gravelly, murderous squawk tore itself out of its throat as the teeth gnashed together. 

“What the _hell_.”

* * *

Sakuya stopped in his path as he heard something. It was a high pitched chirp, sad and warbled. He pushed some bushes aside to find the source. Soon enough, a sad little bird was found, nestled within the roots of a large tree. 

“Hey, there,” he said softly. He pushed his sleeves until the cloth covered his hands and gently lifted the crying chick up. “Where did you come from?” 

Another sad chirp. Man, sometimes he wished he could do the talking-to-animals bit that Misumi could. He looked up at the tree and squinted past the bushes, trying to see if there was a nest up there. He could just barely make out a cluster of small twigs and twine nestled within leaves. 

The chick let out another sad cheep. 

“It’s okay,” Sakuya whispered. “I’ll get you back home.” 

How, though? He didn’t have a sapling on him, and even if he did, growing a tree right next to another one wouldn’t be a smart choice. 

Oh. Levitation. 

“I’m gonna put you in here for a bit,” he told the bird as he tucked it carefully into his sweatshirt’s pocket. 

Heat swirled down the length of his arsm as he pushed his palms down, shooting into the sky. 

“ _Ow,_ ” he muttered upon crashing head-first into a branch. He grabbed it, knowing fully well there was a chance he’d float all the way into the sky otherwise, and began climbing up carefully. 

Sakuya bobbed up to the nest and peered inside. He frowned. 

“You’re… not right,” he said to one of the other chicks inside. 

It was ginormous. Much bigger than the two chicks in the nest and the one inside of his sweatshirt. He watched the bigger chick squawk and wriggle around, nudging the other chicks with its misshapen head. Sakuya’s eyes widened as he saw it nearly push another chick out next. 

“Stop that,” he scolded. Then he felt foolish. The bird didn’t understand him. “Come on. They’re your siblings. You can’t just shove them out of a nest.” 

“It’s a cuckoo. That’s what they do.” 

Sakuya let out a strangled cry at the new voice behind him and nearly lost his grip on the branch. He spun himself around to look at who’d spoken. 

Someone was sitting on a branch higher up, legs crossed. A pretty green-skinned woman sat there, watching him with hazel eyes. She had long brown hair bound in a braid that trailed down her back and was wearing a white gown that showed off her willowy, grass-colored arms. Sakuya tried to pin her age but found that he couldn’t. There was something timeless in the slope of her nose and around her eyes. 

“Who… are you?” he asked. 

She patted the trunk of the tree. “I’m the dryad of this tree. Nice to meet you, Firstborn. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen one of your kind here." 

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you too.” He looked back to the nest and winced when he saw the big chick had started its nudging once again. “ _Stop_ that.” 

“It’s a cuckoo chick, witching. They are born in the nests of other birds and push the others out of the nest to monopolize the food the parent brings back.” The dryad chuckled. “Naughty little thing.” 

“That doesn’t sound right.” 

The dryad shrugged. “It’s what it must do to live. The cuckoo will grow much faster and much bigger than the other chicks. It will grow bigger than the parent itself eventually. It needs the food and cannot share.” 

“But…” Sakuya gently pulled the first chick from his sweatshirt. “But… won’t the others die?” 

“Of course.” 

“That’s not _fair_.” 

The dryad tilted her head to the side. “It’s a part of nature, Firstborn.” 

He looked back at the nest. The chicks were so small. They didn’t deserve to die just because there was a cuckoo there as well. He slipped the first chick back in as well and removed the cuckoo, chuckling when it nipped at his finger. 

“Can you look after this one, please?” Sakuya asked the dryad, stretching the palms that cupped the cuckoo out towards her. 

The dryad blinked. “You want _me_ to look after it?” 

“None of them deserve to die. It’s not the cuckoo’s fault for being born here either.” He pushed himself towards the dryad, still holding the bird out. “Please?” 

The dryad accepted the chick and looked down at it, brows drawn together in conflict. 

“I’m not supposed to disrupt the natural process of things like this,” she confessed. “It’s not how dryads do things.” 

“I’d take it back but we already have two birds back home. And, uh, something tells me our shoebill isn’t going to… treat this one nicely.” Sakuya shuddered. There was a big chance that Monica would think the cuckoo was a snack. “Please? I’d really appreciate it.” 

The dryad leaned forward and pressed the pad of her thumb against Sakuya’s forehead, dragging it slowly across as though she was wiping away a smudge. Neither of them spoke for a moment. 

“You don’t know your birthright, do you,” she said finally. 

Sakuya blinked a few times. “Sorry?” 

The dryad smiled at him, warm and slowly spread like tree sap. She let the cuckoo perch on top of her head where it nestled into her hair. “The gods have been stirring. Perhaps you are why. If it is your brow that bears the Crown, I would not mind. You have kind eyes. Troubled, but kind.” 

Sakuya really had no idea what she was talking about. 

She jerked her chin down towards the ground. “You were in the middle of something before you helped the fallen bird. Best be on your way now.” 

“Right! Thank you so much for looking after the cuckoo.” 

Sakuya wrapped his arms around the trunk and shimmied his way down. His feet hit the ground and he tested his weight a few times to make sure he wouldn’t float off. He began picking his way carefully through the bushes the way he’d come. 

“Firstborn,” the dryad called. 

He looked over his shoulder. 

She waved at him. “Remember this moment when you wear the Crown. It will do you well.” 

“Okay!” he said as he waved back. What crown, though?

* * *

Masumi was going to kill Yuzo. He was going to brain that gruff, goatee-toting jerk with the heaviest thing within arm’s reach. He jammed his foot against the golem’s soft face as it neared him. 

“Get _away_ from me,” he snapped. 

The golem just let out another ugly sound, teeth snapping at his ankle. 

Suddenly, a tree branch shot out of the trunk of the tree he stood on and speared the golem through its midsection. Smaller branches spiked out, tearing the golem to bits of rock as it did so. Masumi watched the pieces crumble to the ground. 

He didn’t have plant powers now, did he? He jumped off of the tree and landed on the balls of his feet. 

“Yooooohooooo.” 

Masumi whirled around. A young girl stood a few feet away, peering with feigned shyness over a berry shrub. 

“You’re welcome,” she crooned, waggling her fingers in his direction. “That was me who did that. The tree branch thing. I saved your life, yeah? But you don’t have to thank me! I did it out of the goodness of my heart.” 

Masumi squinted at her. “Why are you green?" 

“I’m a dryad. There are a ton of us around here. We’re probably the only mythics that the wards don’t chase off.” 

“Oh.” 

The dryad waited, like she expected him to say something else. Masumi had no words to offer. So she filled the silence in on her own. 

"You’re _cute_ ,” she giggled as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “No one cute ever comes through the woods anymore. What’s your name?” 

He turned around and began walking away. 

“Hey, hey! I’m talking to you!” 

“Go away,” he said flatly, still walking. 

She huffed and clapped her hands. A short and thin tree lurched forward, turning from solid wood into something flexible to wrap around Masumi’s waist. It lifted him a few inches off of the ground and left his feet to kick pointlessly. 

“Do you fucking _mind_ ,” he snarled. “I’m in the middle of a lesson. I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“But you’re so cuuuuuute! Please? Pretty please?” the dryad said, batting her eyelashes. 

“No.” 

The dryad collapsed to the grass and began weeping although no tears came. “But I’m so lonely!” 

“That sounds like a you problem.” 

Her cheeks burnt a darker green. She pointed a finger at him. “Watch it. I’m fine with you playing a little hard-to-get but you’re going to hurt my feelings at this rate.” 

“I don’t _care_. Let me go.” 

“But… don’t you think I’m cute too?” 

“No.” 

The dryad’s jaw dropped. “Wh—! I _never!_ You’re a rude one.” 

“‘Kay.” 

She curled her hands into fists. “You magicians are all the same. Thinking you’re so high and mighty and better than the rest of us. Well, mister, I’ll have you know that I’m considered an absolute _flower_ amongst these parts and a ton of the other dryads have been courting me for years.” 

“Years? How old are you?” 

“Dryads age slower.” 

Masumi scowled and struggled against the trees. “That wasn’t answering my question. Get away from me, hag.” 

“HAG?!” 

Someone suddenly burst through the underbrush. A cloaked figure wearing a tragedy mask. Tsuzuru tore it off his face and immediately bowed low to the dryad, almost knocking his forehead against his knees in his fervor. 

“I’m _so_ sorry about him, please, don’t take any offense to what he says. He’s a complete idiot.” 

“Where the hell did you come from?” Masumi muttered. 

Tsuzuru shot him a look that radiated _zip it._ “I was a little further away when I couldn’t help but overhear this absolutely _awful_ conversation you were having. You _never_ disrespect forest spirits. ESPECIALLY when you’re _in a forest_ , you numbskull.” 

Masumi rolled his eyes. “I’m telling Yuzo you broke the rules.” 

“I’m going to strangle you.” 

The dryad put her fists on her hips. “And who might you be?” 

“I’m Tsuzuru Minagi, Caster. I’m one of his teachers. Please, please don’t curse him, he’s troubled enough as it is. We don’t have enough money in the budget for a counselor in the Coven." 

The dryad looked Tsuzuru up and down for a moment. Finally, she said, “You’re not cute.” 

He sighed softly and closed his eyes. “Ouch. Used to it, but it still hurts to hear." 

“What are you, fifty in human years?” 

“Fifty?! I’m nineteen, thank you!” 

She pointed to his head. “But why are you going gray?” 

Tsuzuru’s hands went straight for his hairline. “It’s not gray! My hair just—started going a little lighter brown when I started high school. It is _not_ gray! But that’s—not the point either. Please let Masumi go.” 

“Oh ho ho!” She pressed a finger over smiling lips. “So his name is Masumi is it? Masumi… That’s a cute name.” 

“Not interested, hag.” 

Tsuzuru reared around and marched up to him. 

“Open your mouth,” he ordered. 

“No.” 

Tsuzuru reached forward and clamped Masumi’s nose shut until the boy opened his mouth for air. The Caster shoved his balled up handkerchief inside, gagging and effectively silencing him. 

“You are going to get both of us _killed_ and turned into, into, I don’t know, mushroom people,” Tsuzuru hissed. “Stop. Talking.” 

Masumi narrowed his eyes, the best he could do as replacement of a middle finger while his arms were bound to his sides. 

The dryad covered her face and wept loudly. “That _mean_ magician called me hag again! Waaaaah, I’m so sad!” 

“Oh, no, no, no, you’re not a hag, Masumi just has terrible eyesight,” Tsuzuru said immediately, rushing over to pat her back. “Please don’t cry, please con’t cry, please don’t get in a bad mood and kill us. You’re _very_ cute, I promise.” 

She splayed her fingers to look up at him. “Promise?” 

Masumi spat out his gag. “I have twenty-twenty vision.” 

“Masumi, I swear on the Holy Lord’s name, if you don’t _shut up,_ I’m going to knock your teeth out.” 

“Am I a flower?” the dryad asked Tsuzuru, batting her lashes once again. 

Tsuzuru smiled at her. “Of course you are.” 

“You’re a tree.” 

“MASUMI.” 

The dryad leaned her head against Tsuzuru’s chest. “You know… maybe you’re not as ugly as I thought you were.” 

“Thank… you?” 

“Call me cute again.” 

“You are very, very cute.” 

The dryad giggled and pushed him away. “Stoooooop itttt, you’re going to make me blush!” 

Quiet. 

“Call me cute again or I’ll kill this boy.” 

Tsuzuru held up his palms. “You’re so cute! Very cute! I have _never_ seen someone as beautiful as you before in my life!" 

“Oh my gooooosh, really? Awww, you’re so sweet!” 

Masumi’s scowl deepens. “Just kill me now and get this over with."

* * *

“Any… sixes?” 

Itaru jerked his head to the cutting board on his lap, a small make-shift table while he was confined to bedrest. “Go Fish.” 

Banri clicked his tongue and reached for the deck. “This is boring.” 

“If you wanted fun and adventure, you should have listened and not fallen prey to your impulses.” 

“Shut up, man. It was a training camp. It’s probably even more boring there."

* * *

“NOOOOOOOOO!” Muku bawled, sprinting through the undergrowth. “NO, NO, NO, NO, NOOOOOOO! AAAAAAAH, I DON’T WANNA DIE, I DON’T WANNA DIE, I DON’T WANNA DIEEEEEEE!” 

The golem rampaged after him, not caring if the branches and brambles scraped at its clay skin. 

“GET _AWAY_ FROM ME, PLEASE, OH MY GOD!” 

Muku leapt for a jutting ledge on a mountainside, just barely holding onto the stone with his fingers. He hauled himself up, arms screaming, and glanced behind him. The golem was stone and thus, heavy. It wouldn’t be able to jump as high as he could. 

He watched with horror as the doll of earth tore a large boulder out of the ground, half of it still smeared and wet with mud, and slammed it onto the side of the little hill Muku was perched on. It sure wasn’t able to jump high but that didn’t mean the monster wasn’t strong enough to tower a staircase up. 

“GO _AWAY!_ ” Muku yelled, grabbing a large stick and throwing it. The monster flinched as a side of the thin log hit his temple but didn’t stop its work. 

He was going to die. He was going to die. The monster was going to kill him. Muku looked around for anything, anything that could help, and saw a small pond a few feet away. 

No time to hesitate. The golem had finished its makeshift staircase and was climbing now. He’d have to run for it. 

_Chances?_

One vision had him hitting the pool. The other had him smashing into the ground just below and not only breaking both his legs, but getting mauled by the golem. Muku wasn’t sure how much was being affected by his anxiety and how much was ignorant, naive hope. 

But there wasn’t _time_. 

Muku set his jaw, tried not to be blinded by the tears in his eyes, and went running for the precipice of his hill. 

He leapt for the water and pinwheeled his arms. 

_Please don’t hit the ledge, please don’t hit the ledge, please don’t hit the ledge!_

_Splash!_

“YES!” he caterwauled, accidentally swallowing a mouthful of water. He coughed violently as he doggy-paddled for the other side of the pool. He cautioned a single look over his shoulder. 

The golem was at the shore, not taking a step. 

They couldn’t handle water, Muku realized. They were clay and dirt and stone. But _dirt_ didn’t do well with water, did it? 

“Leave me alone!” he snapped, splashing it. 

The golem reared back to avoid the droplets. 

They hated water. 

Muku pressed his back, still half submerged, against a rocky side of the pond. What to do now? He was safe _in_ the water, but he couldn’t stay there forever, could he? He’d be pruned and looking seventy by the time they found him! He’d turn into Muku soup! 

_Use your head_ , he hissed at himself. _You have magic, don’t you? You’re not helpless anymore! You know what to do!_

He took in a deep breath and shut his eyes, letting the magic seep into the air around him. 

A way out. 

He needed a way out. 

_Left?_

No good. The golem would grab him and snap his elbow like a Twix bar. 

_Right?_

There was a bit of bramble underbrush he could dive under. But only a ten percent chance he would get away safely. Not odds he liked. 

So what then? 

_Up?_

There was no up— 

Hold on… Muku frowned. An odd vision was rising from the murk of possibility. What in the world was that?

* * *

Taichi took a hesitant step towards the man dancing in the middle of a clearing. “Um… hello?” 

“Welcome, brave traveller!” Homare announced, tearing his Tragic mask off and throwing it to the ground. He brandished a hand, weaving bright red light into thin air. “So you have come to challenge me, I take it? Then so be it, I shall challenge your ill begotten idea that I am not a threat!” 

Taichi stared. He shifted his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. “Uh… Mister Arisugawa, I don’t—I don’t really think this is the kind of thing we’re supposed to be doing.” 

“Nonsense, changeling. It would be too easy otherwise. Why, my visage forged from the light of heaven itself could _never_ be mistaken as another man, let alone a dirty clod. So I have taken it upon myself to enforce a new trial to amuse the both of us!” 

“Huh?" 

Maybe it was a survival instinct. Maybe it was just the sight of seeing something mad glint in Homare’s eyes. Whatever the reason, all of Taichi’s hairs were standing on end and a voice inside of his head was screaming to _run_. 

“M-Mister Arisugawa, I think I’m just gonna go that way, so have a nice day—” 

“What-ho, changeling! Prepare yourself!” 

Homare waved his hand in a wide arc over his head and the Runes went flying. Crimson sank into the trees behind Taichi and into the ground at his feet. Vines surged forth from the ground, twisting around his ankles. The heads burst into pretty yellows flowers. The trees quivered before imploding then re-forming into what they’d been seconds prior, only red and veiny. Thick ropes lashed out of the trunks around Taichi’s arms. 

“Wh—!” Taichi struggled against the strange, stretching cords. "WHAT _IS THIS?"_

“Licorice and mustard plants!” 

“ _WHY_.” 

Homare tapped his temple. “They never expect licorice and mustard plants. Always rope and chains, _very_ passé, don’t you think?” 

Taichi struggled harder as the mustard plants started _hurting_ him _._ A single glance was all he needed to tell that they’d for some reason started to grow thorns even though he could have sworn up and down mustard didn’t have thorns. Probably another creative touch from Homare. 

But wait. 

Licorice? 

He sniffed one of the thick strands laced around an arm and took a tentative bite. His teeth snapped through the sugary bonds and that was all he needed. Taichi jammed his teeth into the candy and tore away until his right arm was free. The left took even less time. 

“Ah! A sweet tooth, perhaps?” 

“No, I _hate_ licorice,” Taichi sobbed but there was no time. He leaned down and ripped away the plants. He turned and began sprinting away. 

Homare suddenly broke chase after him. The man didn’t run—he was sitting in a pretty little armchair made of wildflowers, with eight legs like a spider that skittered towards Taichi at a nerve-wracking pace. 

“Nanao! Our joust is _hardly_ over, come back here!” 

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” he yelled as loudly as he could before shifting into Muku and kicking it into high gear. 

Mustard flowers were bursting out of the ground just a few inches behind his heels. He dove for underbrush, hoping to lose Mister Arisugawa amongst vegetation. There was no way, even as Muku, he’d be able to run away from a Caster’s fast paced magic. 

“Come now, changeling, where is the fun in this?! Oho! Perhaps you are looking for a chase? Then chase on! The hunt continues!” 

He heard a horn go off, like Homare was genuinely heading an old-school King’s Hunt and Taichi could only sob as he listened to the fanfare. He was the stag then, wasn’t he? He didn’t want to end with his head on a mantle! 

He skidded to a stop before he could fall into a pond and spun on a heel to run another way. Suddenly, a hand seized him around the ankle. 

“NOOOO!” Taichi screeched as he went careening into the water with a _SPLASH!_

He struggled violently, kicking with those spindly and awkward limbs Sakisaka had to escape whatever monster had dragged him in. 

“Stop—STOP KICKING! Taichi, it’s m-me! _OW!_ ” 

He stopped at the sound of his name and burst out of the shallow waters to breathe. Taichi blinked lake water away and came face to face with Muku. 

“I _really_ kick hard,” the boy managed as he rubbed a welt on his jaw that was already beginning to darken to a bruise. “It’s, umm, it’s really weird to see my body kick me. It’s totally okay for you to use my form! I’m n-not telling you not to, so don’t take this the wrong way! Please don’t get mad.” 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Taichi muttered as his face burned with shame. He melted out back to his own body. “Sorry about that. What are you doing in a pond?” 

Muku pointed at the shore. 

Taichi took one look at the open-mouthed golem and screamed. 

“I’ve been stuck here for like half an hour,” Muku wheezed, chin quivering as he fought back tears. “The thing won’t leave me a-alone, and there’s no future where I can take it on my own. But you can!” 

“HOW THE _HECK_ DO I TAKE THAT ON?” 

Muku held up his fists like he was trying to encourage the changeling. “Misumi!” 

“Misumi?” 

“You have to turn into Misumi. That’s the highest chance you have. Or, um, Omi, but the likelihood of winning if you turn into Misumi is a little higher right now. And I can handle Mister Arisugawa if you help me out of the pond. As—As payment! This can be our deal." 

“How are _you_ going to—?” 

“Just trust me! At least I k-kind of know what’s going through his head, yeah?” 

The two of them held the look for just a second longer before mutually nodding. Taichi took in a deep breath and then sank under water, shifting into Misumi. He took care to shut his eyelid over the empty socket and came back up. Thank God he preferred wearing oversized sweats, otherwise he wouldn’t have fit into his clothes. 

He leapt out of the water, hands outstretched for the golem. 

A weighty arm of solid clay came crashing down to crack his skull open. He grabbed it and swung around, wrapping his legs around the golem’s neck and getting a seat on its shoulders. 

“Come on, come on, _please_ be good for something besides parkour,” he muttered to himself in Misumi’s voice and, with fingers sinking into the golem’s skull of dirt, _wrenched_ as hard as he could to the left. 

Clay shifted. The golem’s stone teeth gnashed together, mouth melting from the front to the side of its head and closing around Taichi’s wrist. Skin and bone broke. The golem spat and something fleshy dropped to the ground. 

Muku clapped his hands over his mouth to muffle his hysterical scream. 

“No, no! Muku, relax!” Taichi said desperately as his vision spotted black from the pain. “The hand grows back when I shift—SHIT!” 

The golem was bucking. Taichi still had a hand. He dug it in harder and kept wrenching to the left. Pressure finally won and the golem’s head twisted before breaking off at the neck. The monster stumbled as its head rolled away but didn’t go down completely. 

“The water!” Muku yelled as he finally let himself out of the pond, wiping clumps of mud and sea plants from his clothes. “They don’t do good in water!” 

That was good enough for Taichi. He got to his feet and backflipped off fo the golem, before shoving the sole of one shoe against the golem’s torso and kicking it as hard as he could in the general direction of the pond. It fell in and threw one arm out in a desperate attempt to keep consciousness before sinking under and… staying under. 

Dead. 

Could something that wasn’t alive be “dead?” Taichi shivered and wiped his dirty hand on his jeans. He wouldn’t think about that. And he wouldn’t think about his new stump that was draining blood. He melted back into his original form and flexed all ten fingers to make sure they were working properly. 

“Deal with him,” he snapped, jerking his head to the narrow pathway amongst the trees where they could hear Homare’s laughter. “That was the deal.” 

“Of course. G-Good luck, Taichi. Your hand’s okay, right?" 

“It’s fine. Everything grows back. See you." 

The two of them went running off yet again.

* * *

Kazunari glanced up from his laptop’s screen the second he heard rustling. He shut the computer and leaned forward in his chair to watch Misumi. The Witch’s face creased with discomfort as he started drifting back to the world of the living. His arms and legs struggled under the covers. 

“Hey,” Kazunari said quietly. “Hey, hey. I’m right here, Sumi.” 

He helped pull the covers off a little so the Witch’s arms could be free. 

Misumi’s eye cracked open. 

“Hurts,” he muttered at last. 

“Yeah. It probably does.” 

“Thirsty.” 

Kazunari reached for the glass of water. Water first, then juice or gatorade if Misumi could handle it, that was what Yuki had said. Misumi winced as he propped himself up on his elbows and then sat up. 

“Are we back in the dorms?” he rasped, taking the glass from Kazunari’s hand and sipping. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“What happened?” 

Kazunari pressed his lips together. 

He could lie. He could. Or twist things to make himself look better in the situation. Misumi would believe him. He could say Banri had done something wrong, or that Yuki had coerced him into something they weren’t supposed to do, or that he’d stumbled into a bad situation without having directly instigated it. He could have even said that what Kazunari had done hadn’t been linked to Misumi’s episode at all. 

But he was tired. He couldn’t lie to the probably sole person left who trusted him entirely. 

“I messed around at Yuzo’s cottage,” Kazunari confessed, shoulders drooping. “I, uh, I tried breaking into this box in his closet with Banri and Yuki. I didn’t tell the Director and… things went wrong. Itaru, you, and Omi got wiped by whatever Yuzo was hiding in the box.” 

“Oh.” Misumi frowned. “Why? What was in the box?” 

“We don’t know.” 

“Ehhhh.” 

Misumi finished off the glass. 

“Where’s the Director?” he asked as he cocked his head. 

“She’s still at the training camp. Citron came back with us and everyone who got hit. Banban, Yukki, and I are on probation.” 

Misumi reached forward and poked Kazunari’s nose. “Bad Kazu. You can’t get in trouble here.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” 

Kazunari winced. “Sumi… I hurt you real bad. You have no idea how—” 

Kazunari’s voice cracked in the middle of his words. He dragged his palm down his face to collect himself. 

“You have no idea how badly you were bleeding.” 

“Yes, I do.” 

Kazunari flinched. “You do?” 

Misumi nodded before he winced from the pain of moving his head. “Yeah. I remember. Masu and Tenma found me. Everything’s foggy after though. But I remember it hurt real bad.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You didn’t mean to hurt me,” Misumi said gently. He reached up a hand to poke Kazunari again, this time on a cheek. “C’mon, Kazu. Smile. It’s okay.” 

Kazunari fought the urge to slap the hand away. “It’s _not_ okay. It’s, like, the most not okay thing in this world." 

Misumi blinked like Kazunari had started speaking in a language he couldn’t understand. The Witch looked up at the ceiling and then out the window and then back to Kazunari, like the glances had helped him gather his thoughts. “You’re my best friend. So… if you end up killing me, that’s not too bad." 

It was like a sledgehammer had just rammed full-force into his stomach, cracking every rib along the way and forcefully crushing the air from his lungs. Kazunari twitched, a full body spasm like he’d been electrocuted. 

“Huh?” he could only manage. 

Misumi’s eye was glistening. Kazunari couldn’t tell if it was because the Witch was still toeing the line of consciousness or if it was because of the warm smile that spread his lips like honey on toast. 

“It’s okay,” Misumi repeated. “It’s okay if you hurt me. Because you’re my best friend. If you have to… I’m okay with that. That’s what friends do, right? They forgive each other.” 

“Sumi, wait—stop—” 

“I don’t like hurting. But I think… I think I hate being alone more. So as long as you’re here when I wake up, that’s all I care about.” Misumi grinned, toothy and as devoted as ever. “It’s okay if it’s you.” 

It was like Kazunari’s chest was constricting. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stop the relentless shivers. 

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that." 

Misumi reached forward and patted Kazunari’s hand. “It’s okay to hurt me if you have to. You’re my best friend. We’re best friends, remember?”

* * *

“Oh my GOOOOSH, you’re so CUUUUTE,” the dryad cooed, sitting snugly on Tsuzuru’s lap as she looked up at him with doe eyes that were borderline worshipping. “Do you _have_ to go back to the city? You could stay here with me forever and ever and ever! I’d take great care of you, you’d have all the apples you could ever want, ever! Tell me how cute I am again.” 

Tsuzuru, to his credit, seemed only a little exhausted and death-wishing despite having done this for the better part of the last five hours. 

“You are very, very cute.” 

“STOOOOOP IIIIIT! Again.” 

He let out a shuddering sigh and rubbed his eyes. 

“Just say she’s ugly and get it over with,” Masumi called. 

“Masumi, I swear.” 

Masumi glared at him. “What. Are you going to tell me that being a mushroom person is _worse_ than having to do this? Have some pride.” 

Tsuzuru hated that he was considering it. How bad was being a mushroom person really? Mushroom people probably never had to worry about rent or paying taxes or college loans. That was already making the prospect attractive. The dryad leaned her head on his chest again. 

“Let’s get married,” she said dreamily. “You can tell me how cute I am for the rest of my life.” 

“Oh, I really couldn’t, I—" 

“No, I don’t like that. Tell me I’m cute, I like you when you say that much better.” 

Tsuzuru sighed and patted her head. “You’re very cute.” 

“Yaaaay! We’re going to get married tomorrow!” 

Masumi leaned his head back, trying to see if he could hit himself on something hard enough to knock himself unconscious. Not a lot of things managed to get under his skin, but being exposed to _this_ much secondhand embarrassment for _this_ long? Masumi was stony-faced and collected, not a god amongst men. 

“Hana?” 

Tsuzuru turned around to see another dryad standing there. This one looked boyish. Similar to the girl hanging off of him, but with short-cropped brown locks and a tunic instead of a gown. 

The dryad that had Masumi trapped made a face. Hana, Tsuzuru put together. “Tsk. Matsu.” 

The new dryad’s face went deep green in fury. “What are you _doing?_ ” 

“None of your business.” 

“Who is that?” 

Hana leaned her head on Tsuzuru’s shoulder. “My new husband.” 

“Nope,” Tsuzuru said immediately. “Nope. No. That was never decided." 

“You’re cheating on me with _this_ loser?” Matsu blustered. “He’s not even hot!” 

“I emotionally, physically, I, on every single level, cannot even bring myself to get upset anymore,” the Caster said to nobody in particular as he tilted his head towards the sky. 

Matsu stormed over, stomping (which did very little, seeing as how he wasn’t even wearing shoes) on the grass like an upset toddler. He pried Hana off of Tsuzuru and shoved him away roughly. 

“Get _away_ from her,” Matsu snapped. “Who even are you?” 

“My name’s Tsuzuru.” 

“I don’t care!” 

“Right.” 

Matsu glanced over the Caster’s shoulder to Masumi and somehow went even darker. “ _Another_ guy? Hana, what the hell!” 

He snapped his fingers and the tree wrapped around the Hunter’s waist finally loosened. Masumi dropped to the ground and stumbled as blood finally began circulating properly once more. 

Hana burst into crocodile tears. “You don’t even pay attention to me anymore! You’re always off, doing whatever, and you’re never around to give me attention!” 

“Harvest season is coming up, you _know_ I don’t have time to be around you always! That doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” 

Tsuzuru seized Masumi. “Come on, let’s get out of here while they’re busy.” 

“Hold it.” 

“What?!” 

Masumi shrugged, not tearing his eyes away from the scene. “It’s starting to get interesting.” 

“You are going to give me an ulcer. You are going to give me multiple, multiple ulcers.” He nabbed Masumi by his ear and began dragging him through the forest in the direction of Yuzo’s cottage. 

“Ow. Quit it. Let go."

* * *

Itaru hobbled on unsteady hooves toward the kitchen in search of some actual food. Did they have any guacamole left? He’d asked the Director to get wholesale tubs from the supermarket but they never had enough. 

The werewolf was frying something in a pan. 

“You’re awake?” Itaru asked. 

Omi glanced at him and chuckled dryly. “Just barely. Got up about an hour ago. Yuki gave me the all clear and then went to go to his room. He doesn’t look happy.” 

“Hm. And yet you’re back cooking.” 

He shrugged. “It’s… the only thing that calms me.” 

And the werewolf would need some calming from the way his hands shook terribly on the pan’s handle, rattling the damn thing on the stove. 

“Nerves or something physical?” 

Omi sighed and rubbed his face with his palm. “Yuki says it’s because of nerves. I have no clue personally. I’m telling myself that I shouldn’t be so shaken over what happened but…” He sucked in a deep breath as though he was reminding himself to calm down. “It’s a little anxiety-inducing, to be honest with you. I’ve been tranquilized and knocked unconscious but I’ve _never_ felt anything like that. What was that?” 

Itaru pressed his lips together and finally admitted to himself that he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own much longer. He sat on the nearest chair and leaned his cheek on a propped palm. 

The werewolf wasn’t wrong. In all his time alive, Itaru couldn’t remember having felt something like that. Like everything inside of his form was melting, rotting, writhing. And beyond that; the _headache_ had been world-ending. He would have preferred having another stake driven through his skull in retrospect. At least that agony hadn’t lasted long. 

“Does it take a genius to figure it out?” he said at last. 

Omi didn’t look at him. Didn’t say anything. Just flipped an egg, spatula quivering. 

“Me. A demon. My summoner. A Witch willing to sell anything and everything to bring me to this world. And you, with the sins you carry upon your back. Can you connect the dots, mutt?” 

The pan rattled again as Omi slid the egg onto a bed of rice. He slipped a few slices of bacon onto the pan next. 

“Why don’t you eat up, Itaru,” he said quietly as he handed the plate over. “Give the bacon a few minutes. Do you prefer it chewy or crunchy?” 

“Raw, actually. Hand it over now." 

Omi clicked the stove off.

* * *

“A new challenger!" 

“L-Let’s be reasonable, Mister Arisugawa,” Muku stammered as he slowly backed away from the Caster. “I’m supposed to b-best you, yeah? What does… that mean? I don’t want to hurt you…” 

Homare paused and touched his chin with the tip of his finger. “I wonder. That’s a very good question. I suppose I’m not looking forward to having you go after my head. It would be a piteous attempt.” 

It hurt a little to hear, but yeah, Muku could see where he was coming from. Homare had, what, ten centimeters on him in height? Not to mention, he was sitting on a giant, terrifying octopus made of stems and flowers that Muku couldn’t ever see himself fighting in a duel. There were Lovecraftian monsters, and then there were (what would Muku describe it as? Arisugawaian?) ideas brought to life. 

Lovecraft had _nothing_ on Homare. 

“Ah!” 

Homare hopped off of the octopus and clapped his hands. Seven Runes hopped out of his pockets dutifully, one turning into a table, two into chairs, one into a chess set, and three into… a tea set? 

“Come, Muku!” Homare announced, sitting primly on one of the chairs. “We shall play a game of chess. Should you win, I will go with you to the cottage.” 

Muku slowly joined him. “And if I lose?” 

Homare laughed loudly. 

Well, that wasn’t promising. 

Muku’s eyes glowed bright blue. He couldn’t afford to lose this.

* * *

Taichi swallowed. “Can you… Can you take off your mask?” 

The figure slowly reached up and took it off. 

He let out a sigh of relief that bordered on a full sob as the Director’s beaming face greeted him. 

“Congrats, kiddo,” she said, jumping off of the boulder to ruffle his hair. “Hope the challenge wasn’t too hard on you. Those golem things were an eyesore when Yuzo showed us.” 

He groaned and finally let himself slump against a tree trunk. “The golems were _nothing_. Mister Arisugawa was terrifying though.” 

She frowned. “Did Homare get up to anything?” 

“He said something about how the course was too easy and turned trees into candy to prove a point. I just ran when he started laughing. That guy is scary and I don’t think he was even _trying_ to be.” 

“Don’t know him too well but yeah, that doesn’t sound too out of the blue. Let’s get back to the cottage.”

* * *

Yuzo was sitting on his lawn chair with a can of beer in hand when they trekked out of the woods. 

“You’re the first ones back,” he said simply. “That’s the second time you’ve won, changeling. Maybe you’ve got more fight in you than I’d thought.” 

Taichi’s face bloomed red. He stammered, like he had no idea what to do with praise. 

Izumi glanced at the setting sun and frowned. “First ones back? Yuzo, I’m not comfortable with leaving the kids in the dark for long.” 

He waved his hand. “They’ll be fine. You can’t keep coddling them. You know, when I was learning at the Coven, your father dumped me to find my way out of a forest. Took me three days. I had nothing on me but a spell book and a box of matches.” 

“Yeah, well, dad dumped me and mom in another province for most of my life so I think I win this contest.” 

Yuzo cleared his throat. “Right.” 

The bushes behind her rustled. From the leaves burst Tsuzuru and Masumi. 

Her second-in-command crumpled to his knees the second he came out and began sobbing. “This wasn’t even supposed to be _hard_ for me. I was supposed to just sit there and be found. Why does it never end well for me?” 

Masumi left him there in favor of walking over to Izumi. “I did it. Praise me.” 

“Why is Tsuzuru crying?” 

“Don’t care. Praise me please?” 

Izumi sighed and patted his head twice. “Glad you’re back. Have you seen either Muku or Sakuya on the way?” 

“No.” 

Yuzo squinted at the treetops. “What the fuck is that?” 

Izumi clicked her tongue at the crass language but had to look. Something green and blobby with eight long vines (legs?) was slithering its way towards them from high above. 

“Greetings, Director! We return,” Homare said with grandiose as the floral beast lowered to the ground. He hopped off with Muku right behind him. 

The young Seer collapsed on the ground and groaned. 

“What is _that?_ ” Tsuzuru asked angrily as he jabbed a finger at the weird _thing_ Homare had enchanted. 

Homare shrugged and snapped his fingers. The octopus unraveled and the plants returned to the ground, spotting Yuzo’s yard with a new flowerbed. “I’m not quite sure. I sent a few Runes out for a simple transportation method and this was what was brought back to me.” 

“What do you mean you’re not quite sure?! You have to be _articulate_ when it comes to Runes, there’s no way you can’t know!” 

“Minagi, what have I said about putting rules on magic?” 

“THAT’S A STAPLE OF CASTER MAGIC, YOU HEATHEN.” 

Homare chuckled dryly. 

Izumi rushed forward to make sure Muku wasn’t hurt too badly. “Hey, kiddo, you good? How many fingers?” 

“Three,” he whimpered without even looking in her direction. “That was awful. Today was awful. I m-managed to do it, though!” 

“Heck yeah, you did, give me a high five.” 

He slapped their palms together sloppily, still not opening his eyes or moving much from the ground. 

Izumi winced as she tilted his chin up. His clothes were muddy, wet, and there was a nasty bruise on his jaw. “You didn’t make it out that well, huh?” 

“The golems were scary. Everything was s-scary. But I did it!” 

“Proud of you. Did you see Sakuya?” 

Muku finally opened his eyes and blinked a few times to chase the glow away. “No… I saw him last when we split at the beginning. Taichi was the only other, um, student I ran into.” 

Izumi looked back into the forest as worry started nibbling at her heart. Where in the world was the Witch?

* * *

Tenma drew his knees closer to his chest. He’d gone out and fetched a wandering golem, extra protection just in case, but he was still uneasy. Especially with the sun setting. What was taking the students so long? 

He looked down at the hand drawn map Yuzo had given him. Tenma had never been very good at reading maps. And he wasn’t confident in his abilities to find his way back to the cottage on his own. Did the sun set in the north or south? He couldn’t remember. 

“I don’t, uh, suppose you’re much for conversation, yeah?” he asked the golem when the silence got too uncomfortable. 

The golem didn’t say anything. 

"Yeah, thought as much." 

He rested his forehead on his knees and tried to just calm down. Easier said than done when the leaves around him were rustling at any given moment. Were there bears in this forest? Tenma sure _hoped_ there weren’t any bears.

* * *

“Oh,” Muku gasped suddenly as he finished off his carton of strawberry milk. “Taichi, are you sure your hand is okay?” 

Taichi paused gorging himself on barbecued vegetables to wave both hands at the Seer. “Yep! Told you. Everything gets healed up when I shift.” 

Izumi chuckled as she towel-dried a plate. “What happened to your hand, kiddo? Hangnail?” 

“The golem bit it off!” 

The plate shattered on the floor. A fountain of A1 sauce sprayed out of Yuzo’s mouth onto the table. 

The Director turned around, face white. “It. It what?” 

Taichi shivered. “Yeah. Its mouth went, like, _snap_ and bit it right off. Oh, but you don’t need to worry, it really does grow back. I lost a leg on a mission for Mayor Reni once, I had to find out I could regenerate the hard way.” 

Izumi turned her gaze to Yuzo, lips trembling. “What… What is he talking about? You said the golems don’t—you said—” 

“Director, the golems _aren’t_ supposed to do that,” Yuzo said immediately, standing up. “Something’s wrong.” 

Muku swallowed thickly as he looked at the Director. Her shoulders were rising and falling much too quickly. “Director, are you okay?” 

“You SAID,” she began, voice rising in volume. “YOU SAID _THE GOLEMS WOULD LEAVE LIGHT WELTS AT MOST_. NOT _BITE. THEIR. HANDS OFF._ ” 

Their trainer didn’t even say anything. He grabbed a flashlight from under a sink and went running out the door. 

“OH MY _GOD._ ” Izumi looked into the cupboard and grabbed the second flashlight, sprinting as fast as she could and shoving the trainer aside. “ _SAKUYA AND TENMA ARE STILL IN THE WOODS_." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually don't like birds that much so I'm not sure why I keep including birds in this fic. Thank you for reading as always!


	40. Pumpkins are Technically Fruits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for the chapter:
> 
> creepy bug description, blood, violence(?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We crossed 700 kudos! Thank you so much to everyone who read the fic, especially the newer readers ( ^ ^ )

Citron put his tea on the table and laced his fingers together. “Kazunari.” 

Ooh. A conversation beginning with a single statement of his name. Those never ended well. “Ronron.” 

“We must talk.” 

“Ahaha." Kazunari wanted to cry. "Do we gotta? I'm a pretty busy guy, you know. You should get your people to talk to my people to set up a time beforehand."

Citron didn’t laugh. “I'd like to talk now, Kazunari.” 

“…Yeah. I guess you have some questions.” 

Citron’s eyes glowed bright for just a moment, flashing with magical brilliance before returning to normal. “There is no point in me trying to See whether you tell the truth or not, is there?” 

Kazunari didn’t say anything. 

“You know how to lie. You know how to get past my magic. Without a charm or spell.” Citron let out a few gentle puffs of air, painfully reminiscent of a laugh but so, so far from it. “I was honest at the cottage. I have never met someone who could do that before.” 

“Aw, man, are you calling me special?” Kazunari tried. 

Citron obviously wasn’t having it. “Speak, Kazunari." 

Kazunari looked down at his palms. He curled his fingers, letting the nails sink crescents into the soft flesh. Baby steps. Small, steady little inches on the road to somewhere different. He could do it, couldn’t he? 

“Your magic is subjective,” he said at last. “And… relative to that subjectivity. I just—I guess I jumped for the opportunity. Since I saw it. Or something." 

Citron cocked his head to the side. “Explain.” 

“Seer magic. I’m going off of books and theory here, okay? Obviously, we don’t know a ton of what you guys are like since Japan doesn’t have many.” 

“This is true.” 

Kazunari took in a deep breath and tried to relax his facial muscles before they could start twitching uncontrollably. He chose to ask a question first. “What’s the future like, Ronron? What do you see exactly when you…?” 

Kazunari gestured vaguely. 

“The future is like a road.” The Seer pressed the tip of his finger to the table’s surface and drew a straight line. “Sometimes, it can go here. There.” He drew two lines that split at a Y from the first. “Sometimes there are many roads. Sometimes, there is only one fate. That is what I call set in stone. A future you cannot change no matter how many actions you take.” 

“And you see every future no matter what?” 

Citron frowned. “It helps if I know things. The more information I have, the clearer fate is. The easier I can understand. But things set in stone, Seers will see always.” 

Kazunari swallowed. It didn’t help the scratchy dryness inside his throat. “And—And you see the truth, yeah?” 

“I know when people lie.” 

“How?” 

Citron waved his hand. “The auras. They flicker when one tells a lie.” 

“Why?” 

Citron paused. He dropped his hand. “What was that?” 

Kazunari’s hands spasmed. He clenched them tight until his knuckles went white. He didn’t like this. “Why do the souls flicker?” 

“There is no why. It’s a fact. Souls darken when a lie is told.” 

“It’s a tell.” 

“Tell what?” 

“Tell. Noun. Tells are these involuntary reactions people have when they say lies. They—either start fidgeting or go completely still. They don’t look you in the eyes. They repeat things, they give too much information; because they think the more they say, the more believable they’ll be.” Kazunari took in another deep breath and massaged right over his chest to ease the tension. “You can control tells.” 

“You _cannot_ control truth,” Citron argued. 

“Can’t you?” Kazunari drummed his fingers. The nervous energy was going to kill him. “Think about it. Let’s say I lie to—Tenma, yeah? Let’s say I tell him that polar bears are purple. And he doesn’t know what polar bears are, so he believes me. Then he tells _you_ that polar bears are purple. Would his soul flicker then?” 

Citron was silent. 

“Truth. Lies. They’re _subjective._ They’re about belief. And beliefs change, beliefs are _flexible_. Truth is manipulatable. And _that_ is the biggest—flaw in your magic." 

Citron’s eyes narrowed. “You manipulate your own truth?” 

“If you tell yourself a lie enough, you believe in it.” 

“You cannot think so.” 

Kazunari grinned, sad and tired, and flicked the brim of his hat with the pad of his thumb. “It’s how it’s worked for me so far.” 

“Always?” 

“For enough.” 

The clock ticked over their heads. Neither of them said a word, just staring at one another. Kazunari tried smiling wider but couldn’t find the energy. Maybe he couldn’t find a reason to. 

“How long can you comfortably live a lie, Kazunari?” Citron asked softly. He cautioned the barest glances down the hallway of bedrooms. “Will you pull cotton over your eyes and the eye of the people who love you?” 

He didn’t know what to say to that. 

So he settled for, “It’s wool, Ronron. The saying is ’to pull wool over someone’s eyes.’” 

Citron leaned back in his chair. “Will you continue lying to me? The Director relies on me to know the truth. You are a threat to that." 

“Ahaha… Of course not. I’m not going to lie to you anymore.” 

Citron stared at him. 

Kazunari held out his pinky finger and could only laugh. “Promise. Swallow a thousand needles.” 

“Be careful with Misumi.” 

Kazunari’s hand dropped. Then his head. 

“Yeah. I know.” 

“Good. You may go." 

* * *

Izumi had just crossed the threshold when she felt a hand wrap around her ankle. 

She and Muku went crashing to the ground. The taste of blood flooded her mouth as she clipped her tongue with her front teeth. 

“Christ, Muku!” she spat. She touched her chin and drew fingers away stained red. A scrape from the cobblestone but it’d be fine. Izumi whirled around to glare at the Seer who was picking himself up. “What was that for?!” 

“Director, you can’t go in there,” Muku whispered, eyes bright blue. Too bright. “I see something. You—it’s not a good future. You _cannot_ go into the forest.” 

“Tachibana, we don’t have all day!” Yuzo snarled as he shoved her towards the door. “Control your fucking students.” 

She froze. Visions weren’t nonsense. 

An answer was needed. “What do you see, Muku.” 

“I don’t—it’s not clear. It’s too d-dark, it’s too _much_ , it’s not GOOD!” 

Well, that wouldn’t be enough to keep her here. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” 

Muku lunged and wrapped his arms around her middle. “No! You can’t go, please, it’s not safe! _You_ specifically can't go in there!” 

She pried him off her. 

“Taichi, STOP THEM!” 

“Don’t you move a step, Nanao.” 

Taichi stood like a deer caught in headlights, looking back and forth from Izumi and Muku like he was caught in a terrible tennis match. 

Izumi shook the Seer by his shoulders. “Listen. I trust you. You see a _lot_ of things. But unless you can give me the specifics about _why_ it’s so terrible for me to go into that forest, I’m going. Sakuya and Tenma are my responsibility as long as this Coven is up. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

He stomped his foot, eyes teary. “NO! I said no! I said you can’t!” 

“And I don’t care. I tried talking to you, Muku, but I don’t have time for this.” 

“T-Then take us with you?!” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“But—!" 

Homare popped his head in, marveling at the commotion. “Director, is there something going on?" 

“Homare, scout the area!” Izumi snapped at him. She pointed a finger to Tsuzuru. “You stay with Muku and Taichi inside the cottage. Don’t you _dare_ let them take a step outside for even a second until we’re back." 

“You got it.” Tsuzuru wrenched Muku back over the threshold. The Director began making her way through the yard. 

Muku protested immediately. “We can—help! You can’t go in there alone!" 

“Director, you can take us with you,” Taichi tried desperately, inching forward. “At least me, at _least._ I know how to take care of myself, you don’t have to worry about me, I’m not a kid!” 

Muku nodded so hard, his head looked like it would roll off soon. “Take T-Taichi with you! Your chances are better with him!" 

Izumi whirled around and pointed a finger at them both, expression promising a fate worse than hell. 

“I am NOT,” she bellowed, “losing TWO MORE STUDENTS in the woods, GOT IT?” 

Muku and Taichi quailed at her shouting. 

“Taichi. You are a child! You were a child when you were working for Reni, you _are_ a child while you’re learning under me, and that means I do have to worry about you no matter how goddamned capable you think you are!” She took in a sharp breath. “Not a step. Not a—not a STEP. You all are going to drive me nuts! Not a STEP into the woods, NEITHER of you!” 

“BUT WE CAN HELP!” Muku yelled, struggling harder. 

Tsuzuru let out a gag as a bony elbow caught him in the ribs. He wrenched Muku back harder. “Good Lord, you are annoying. They’re going to be fine.” 

Muku’s chin wrinkled. “Director, t-there’s a storm coming. You’re not going to be okay without us, your chances are better with us, please, please, please—!" 

“Rain is the LAST thing I have to be worried about right now! Go back inside, I’m _not_ going to ask you twice." She turned to Homare who was inspecting the forest, refusing to take a step inside. “Are you just going to stand there?!” 

He flinched at her tone. “Why, I never! These loafers don’t do well with dirt, you know. I’m wondering if I’ve put them through enough strife for the day." 

“Arisugawa, I want as many of those whatever-the-hell monsters you made crawling through the woods right now." 

Homare huffed. “They are _not_ monsters, they are my darling creations.” 

And yet, he urned around to toss a few Runes out as he’d been ordered to. The leaves on the trees around them shook ominously before several branches plopped down, writhing like snakes and twisting together to form an ugly brute of an octopus. He paused for a moment and then threw two more Runes forward. Roses sprouted forth and burst to full bloom, dotting the beast quite prettily. 

“The aesthetics are unnecessary, Homare!” 

“The aesthetics are alway necessary, thank you very much.” 

Izumi slapped a palm over her mouth to muffle her frustrated scream. The octopus was off, scuttling away on eight vines as legs. Homare put together his hands to form a few more. 

“Director, I’m not goin’ to wait all fuckin’ night for you!” Yuzo snapped, shining his flashlight into her eyes. He was further in the trees. 

“I’m on the way!” 

The two went into the darkness with Homare’s monsters whizzing ahead of them every which way. The Caster himself rode on the back of one, legs crossed primly like he was on a simple carriage ride. 

“THERE’S A STORM!” she heard Muku screech over her shoulder. “IT’S NOT SAFE, DIRECTOR!” 

“Alright, I’m Binding you. We’re going inside.” 

_Thank you_ , Tsuzuru.

* * *

Tenma rested his head on his knee. Whatever. He’d just take a nap and wake up when the sun was out. They’d find him eventually, wouldn’t they? 

“…Tenma?” 

He shot up. That was faster than he’d expected. Not that he was complaining. 

Sakuya appeared from behind a tree and let out a sigh of relief. 

“It is you!” he said as he trotted over. “That’s good. I was getting worried you all left the woods because it was getting dark.” 

“Hey. Can we go back now?” 

Sakuya hesitated. “Do you know the way back?” 

“…No.” 

“Ah.” 

Tenma patted his pockets and took out a map. “I have a map. They gave it to me.” 

Sakuya took it from him and spread it open. “Oh… I don’t think I can tell where to go with this.” He turned a full circle. “…Yeah, sorry. I mean, I guess we could float up to try to see if we can find the cottage from here but I’m not sure how safe that would be.” 

Tenma fidgeted. “That kinda sucks. So, like, what, we just stay here?” 

“Who knows! It could be fun. Like camping!” 

“I’d never gone camping before.” 

“Neither have I. I’m sure we can figure it out. Can you go help me look for some wood?” 

Tenma looked at the golem behind him. “Can you go get us some firewood?” 

The golem shambled off. Sakuya’s eyes widened. “It listens to you?” 

“Pretty basic commands. I think Yuzo made it or something. I dunno.” 

And so, they sat together in the clearing. A tiny field of grass surrounded by either cliffsides or trees. It was fairly nice. The golem lurched back with an armful of dry wood it dropped at their feet and Sakuya crawled forward. 

“You got any matches?” 

“I don’t think I need matches, Tenma. Maybe some dry leaves would be nice though.” 

Some kindling was easily found. Sakuya pointed a finger and zapped it with a bit of lightning, just enough to leave the tinder scorched and smoking. He leaned his face down and started to blow gently, a steady stream of oxygen to feed the fire. He felt his heart swell with pride as orange began to glimmer, and then a baby flame burst to life. 

“There we go!” Sakuya said happily. 

“Nice.” 

Sakuya added a few more twigs and then gently formed a tent with the bigger logs. It’d keep it going for some time. He sat back. 

“This isn’t too bad,” he said. “I’d like to go actual camping one day. I think Omi’s mentioned going camping a lot. It’d be nice if the Coven took a group trip." 

Tenma leaned his chin on his knee and snorted. “I guess. Maybe after your quest.” 

Sakuya’s smile turned a tad forced. “Ah. Yeah.” 

"D’you think they’re looking for us?” 

The Witch huffed with soft chuckles. “Probably not. Yuzo told us if we didn’t find a teacher, then we’d be here after dark. Something tells me the guy wasn’t bluffing when he said that.” 

“That sucks.” Tenma reached for a stray stick and poked at the glowing embers. So they’d be there for a while yet until the sun came up, it seemed.

* * *

“Give me a boost up!” Izumi yelled. 

Yuzo laced his fingers together and she kicked off of it, grabbing a branch that jutted out to haul herself up. 

Her arms were screaming. “Holy _shit_ , I have to work out more.” 

“Shoulda put you on the obstacle course.” 

“I meant something like pilates, not a death run!” 

She reached an arm out to pull Yuzo up next. Overhead, Homare’s “darling creations” swung from treetop to treetop on their vines, too bulky to make it through the woods otherwise. Izumi wasn’t sure if they could talk, or sense, or if they’d be able to report back after having found Tenma and Sakuya, but with half the Coven out, they’d need as many hands on board as possible. Or… vines, in this case. 

They ran side by side. 

“SAKUYA!” Izumi bellowed. She cupped her hands around her mouth and tired again. “TENMA!” 

Nothing. They _must_ be further in, they’d had the whole day to wander around. 

She smacked Yuzo on his bicep. “How big is the forest.” 

“A little over eight hundred acres, seven within the bounds of the wards.” 

Christ. “How long will it take to go through the entire place?" 

He cringed, sweat already dotting his forehead. “It’s more than a square mile. There are small cave systems, ravines—it could take until sunrise.” 

“Then it’ll take until fucking sunrise, Yuzo, keep up! SAKUYA!” Nothing. She swore, loud and ugly. “What was up with the golems?! Thank god Taichi can grow limbs back on his own, we would have had to cart him off to the Council ASAP otherwise!” 

“I don’t know, Director, they’re not supposed to go on such a fritz. They’re goddamned golems, they plant potatoes and then turn into mush when they’re tired!” He suddenly stopped in his tracks, soles skidding on the earth. Yuzo’s eyes were wide open. “Fuck. _Fuck_. The trunk.” 

“The what?!” 

“The—your weasels, they opened the first lock.” He slapped his palm to his forehead and groaned. “God. Of course the golems went off their shit. It must have affected _everything_ inside of the ward boundaries, Christ." 

Izumi was sick and tired. She’d been sick and tired for a while, she realized, she’d been _frustrated_ and upset ever since the first problem months ago whatever it’d been. Nothing but trouble, _nothing_ but fate being a twisted, angry bitch trying to make her life difficult. 

“What is in the fucking box, Yuzo,” Izumi snarled. 

“I can’t tell you.” 

She seized him by the front of his tracksuit and forced him against a cliffside. “I’m going to ask you one. More. Time. What is in that fucking box.” 

Yuzo stared at her solemnly. 

“Director, you don’t understand. I can’t tell you. It’s not like I’m refusin’ to, I _can’t_.” 

“…What?” 

Yuzo dropped his jaw and let his tongue loll out. A blue Rune rose from the pink flesh, glowing forbiddingly. 

She jerked away. “Oh my god. Oh my _god_. You’re _warded_.” 

Yuzo pulled his tongue back into his mouth. “Unfortunately.” 

“It—did someone curse you?” 

He hesitated for a moment. “I agreed to it. H—a friend. A friend asked me. I said yes.” 

Izumi stared at him. “And it stops you from saying what’s in the box?” 

“It’s on the tongue for symbolism or whatever. The direct ward is against revealing knowledge, so I won’t be able to sign it, uh, write it. You get it." 

“How big of a secret is it?” 

Yuzo pressed his lips together as though he was testing out what he wanted to say, testing out whether or not he’d be allowed to. “You have no idea."

* * *

“So, uh. How’s, uh, drama club going?” 

“It’s fun! Drama club’s always fun. The club leaders are working on putting together a _musical_ for next year, doesn’t that sound great? I won’t be able to be in it but Masumi will be. I should go watch it.” 

They were quiet again. 

“The golem’s, uh, kind of scary, isn’t it?” Sakuya said suddenly, pointing to the doll. It stood further back, menacing even if it didn’t mean to be. 

Tenma shuddered. “I’m trying not to think about it. It was good having another kind-of-person around when I was alone but now it’s just creeping me out.” 

“I think it’s the mask.” 

“It’s definitely the mask.” 

The damn Melpo-something, tragedy, _whatever_ mask, with a sobbing black mouth and drooping eyes. Tenma told himself not to but couldn’t help it—he looked one more time. A shiver overwhelmed his spine. 

“I’m gonna take it off,” he announced as he got to his feet. “I don’t want it looking at me when I’m sleeping.” 

He reached up. This one was probably supposed to be a Homare impersonator at the height it was. Tenma flicked the mask off. 

The blank face, he realized, wasn’t much better. It was like being with a mannequin. And even in malls, with all the lights bright and tons of people roaming about, Tenma hated seeing mannequins. 

“Tenma, you good?” 

“Yeah… just gimme a second.” He squinted at the golem. Was there a crack in its face? 

Tenma reached forward to touch it. 

Suddenly, the sideways mouth opened wide and snapped viciously. 

“FUCK!” 

“Tenma?!” 

He leapt a full six feet away, nearly landing in the campfire as adrenaline coaxed magic out of his system involuntarily. The golem snarled, drooling mud as it stomped forward. 

“Don’t touch him!” Sakuya said harshly, leaping to his feet. He swept Tenma further behind him with an arm. 

The Hunter’s eyes went wide as he stumbled to the ground, taking care to avoid the fire. He heard the golem even if he couldn’t see it past the Witch, heard the monster bellow with a noise more like splitting stone and rumbling boulders than anything organic. 

Sakuya send out a searing hot bolt of golden lighting from his palm. The air crackled with electricity, sending both of their hairs up in frizz, but the golem merely shrugged it off. 

“Ah.” Sakuya took a hesitant step back. “E-Electricity doesn’t work on dirt, I suppose.” 

The golem lunged, mouth open wide. 

Tenma kicked Sakuya in the back of his knee and sent him down, leaping up to take his place and shove his forearm into the golem’s mouth. 

“TENMA!” 

“It’s _fine!_ ” he bellowed. He jammed his forearm back, effectively gagging the golem for a moment. 

He shoved harder, trying to get the golem back a step. Christ, these things were strong. Yuzo had told them they would be but this was ridiculous. The golem’s foot finally slipped as the clay of its sole struggled to get a proper grip on the grass. Tenma jumped back and grabbed Sakuya’s sweatshirt hoodie to get him up and running. 

The two sprinted through the woods, ducking under low branches and scraping cheeks on twigs. 

“How did you—?! Is your arm okay?” Sakuya gasped through pants. 

Tenma gritted his teeth. He couldn’t jet if Sakuya was right beside him, could he? He couldn’t leave the Witch behind. “It’s _fine_.” 

“HOW?” 

“It’s the highest Hunter defense! It, you, I can strengthen _one_ part of my body to resist any—FUCK!” 

The two tore through a bush and went crashing through the air as solid ground disappeared. 

Sakuya seized Tenma as air streamed past them. They’d gone off a cliffside and the forest floor was now rushing towards them with the intent to leave them as nothing but two smears. Gravity shifted before disappearing entirely. 

“Levitation?” Tenma wheezed, squeezing his chest to calm his thrumming heart. Difficult to do when they were bobbing up and own. 

“I think—I think I got it! We’re n-not going to the, the sky so I’m getting better at this, I guess?!” 

“Thank you! Thank you for not sending us to the moon! I’m so glad that’s the new standard!” 

Sakuya opened his mouth to reply but only a scream rushed out as a rock the size of Omi shot past them like a cannonball. It just barely missed them by just an arm’s length. The golem reached for another on the cliff’s edge, rearing back to hurl it towards them once again. 

“KILL IT!” Tenma yelled at the top of his lungs. 

“HOW?” 

“ _YOU ARE A FIRSTBORN WITCH, WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW?!”_

“OH MY GOD, THAT DOESN’T TELL ME ANYTHING!” 

“ _SAKUMA!_ ” 

“STOP YELLING AT ME!” 

Tenma grabbed a fistful of Sakuya’s hair, made a note to apologize for it later, and shoved his face into his chest, curling around the Witch to use his own body like a shell. The boulder collided onto his back and, through the pain (which, thanks to shock, probably didn’t hurt as much as it should have), the _crunch_ of several ribs made his stomach turn. Tenma opened his mouth to let out a pained _ACK!_

But found only blood could come out. 

Sakuya cried as scarlet splattered him on his face and then the two went crashing to the ground. 

“T-Tenma, TENMA!” Sakuya yelled, shaking him. “Please don’t die, please—!" 

_Stop shaking me!_ Tenma wanted to snap so badly but _boy,_ could he _never_ have predicted how bad a pierced lung hurt. Every intake of air was like snorting pure lava. He couldn’t tell if his magic was starting the healing procedure on instinct, a survival mechanism, or whether he’d triggered it on his own through the agony. Shards of rib lined up properly and began knitting together, a process that would normally have taken weeks beginning and finishing in a span of a few seconds. 

_Not_ a great feeling. 

Sakuya was crying. Sobbing, really, face bright red and petrified. As Tenma’s vision sharpened again, he realized that the red was from his blood. 

He reached up, dazed, with his sleeve to sloppily dab at it. 

“Sorry, man,” Tenma muttered. “Gross. I know." 

“You’re ALIVE?” 

“Hunter magic. _Fuck_. That hurt.” 

Sakuya bawled, throwing his arms around Tenma’s shoulders and hugging him close. “Thank God, oh my God, I—” 

_SLAM_. 

The golem jumped off the cliff and landed on both feet, strong enough to shake the ground upon impact and sturdy enough to not falter from it. 

Tenma swore at the top of his lungs. Sakuya glared at the golem, features twisting into something ugly and exhausted. 

“ _Enough_ ,” the Witch hissed. 

The golem froze. They watched, inching closer together just in case, as the earth doll shivered— 

And then— 

And then the clay that bound it together began bubbling. 

Large lumps rose to the surface, before bursting with pus and slime. The golem swatted at its torso, dislodging large clumps of its own body. It bellowed, it struck itself, and soon… 

The golem crumbled to nothing but a pile of dirt and pebbles. 

Sakuya and Tenma stared at it. 

Tenma looked at Sakuya. “What—?” 

Sakuya finished, voice soft and pitched high with fear. “— _Was that?_ "

* * *

“Uh. Should you be up?” 

Omi looked over his shoulder. He smiled. “Hey, Juza. How are you?" 

Juza shrugged. 

“It must have been lonely being here on your own. Even if we came back earlier than planned.” 

“Eh. Matsukawa talks too much.” 

Omi chuckled and reached under the cupboard for a bag of flour. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed.” 

“Can’t sleep. Thought I should get up and get some baking done. I’m thinking, uh, some tarts maybe and muffins for breakfast. I’m free to chat for a while if you want?" 

Juza made a face. “I’m gonna go.” 

“Oh, alright. Stay safe.” 

“I’m dead.” 

Omi winced. 

Banri stopped by the kitchen, wet hair covered with a towel, and rummaged around the fridge. He found a bin of cooling custard and swiped up a finger’s worth. 

He popped it into his mouth. Through it, he asked, “What’s up with Hyodo?” 

“Juza never really likes being around when I’m baking. I guess he’s not a fan of sweets.” 

Banri frowned, sucking on his index finger for a moment as he processed that. He wiped his hand on his jeans and went off to the courtyard where the ghost had drifted. 

“Yo, asshole. Where are you.” 

Silence. 

Banri rolled his eyes. Alright. If he wanted to hide, then whatever. Banri checked behind a few of the big trees, behind the bushes, and then walked back a few steps to look up at the balcony. A little higher, he could just barely make out a silvery outline of a ghost. Bingo. 

“Would it have killed you to just say you were up here?” he huffed as he began scaling the building, taking care with the shallow grooves in the stone wall. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Someone’s in a shit mood.” 

Juza turned his face away. But he didn’t float off to disappear through a wall, so he probably wasn’t that pissed off. Not yet, anyways. 

“The werewolf’s standing in the kitchen looking like you kicked him in the nuts, Hyodo. Fuck was that about?” 

Silence. 

Banri sighed and rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t punch the ghost, at least not when he was just a ghost. God _damn_ it. Everyone else in the Coven was such a fucking blabbermouth that he’d forgotten how annoying it could be to talk to an emotionally stunted dead guy. 

“Do I need to do, like, the whole fucking Sakuma thing where I have to nudge you to peel back the layers?” he complained. 

“I can’t eat.” 

Banri blinked. 

Well, yeah, that made sense. 

“Damn, I guess that means you can’t take a dump either.” 

Hyodo looked at him with such a judgmental contempt, it was like looking at a photo of Banri’s parole officer. Banri ran a hand through his hair. 

“You miss it a lot?” he asked finally. 

Juza nodded. It was the smallest jerk of his chin that Banri would have missed at any other moment. But there it was, a tense admission. 

“Food’s not that great.” 

Juza’s frown deepened and his eyes darkened with sorrow. Like he was grieving something lost. 

Maybe Hyodo was upset because it was reminding him that he wasn’t alive? Banri didn’t really have the energy to try to figure it out. 

“Alright.” 

Banri really wished he could go for a smoke but he’d left his cigarettes and fake ID at home. Damn. And he’d given his parents some bullshit excuse to explain being gone for a week, so there was no way he could go _back_ and get them. If he was going to be stuck in the Coven for a whole week without nicotine and on probation, he should at least think up of a project. This felt like one he could work with. 

“Alright?” Juza repeated. 

“Yeah. Alright. I’ll find a way to get you to eat.” 

“Oh."

* * *

They made a smaller campfire amongst a small pumpkin patch. Neither of them spoke as the fire crackled. 

“How’s your back?” Sakuya whispered suddenly. 

“Oh.” Tenma rubbed the base of his spine. “It’s—fine. Hurts, but I’ll be okay. Hunters heal quickly.” 

“That’s good.” 

… 

“So, you can be invincible?” 

Tenma winced. “Kind of? Obviously I never, like, tried to take it as far as it could go. It’s kind of like a last ditch attempt. If someone stabs you in the stomach, you tense your abs and the knife can’t go past. Not sure if I’d be able to take a bullet.” 

“Oh. That’s cool.” 

Tenma decided to just go for it. “Hey, Sakuma. You sure you don’t know what you did there?” 

“I don’t know if I did it.” 

“Bullshit. Come on. You _looked_ at the thing and it broke.” 

Sakuya shuddered. “Can we… not talk about it? At least for now?" 

But they needed answers. Tenma wasn’t much of a reader and he didn’t know a lot about how Witch magic worked, but there was no way that hadn’t been black magic. Obscenely black magic. And black magic was _never_ good news. 

“Fine,” he conceded. “Later.” 

“Thank you.” 

Tenma leaned back on his palms. Something sharp sank into his hand. 

“OW!” 

He snatched his hand back, eyes widening at the sight of the large bite mark. Blood was seeping through slowly from two holes. Fangs? Was there a snake in the pumpkin patch? 

“…What happened?” Sakuya asked as he scooted closer. 

“I have no clue.” 

They looked down at the pumpkin nearest to them. They watched it begin to quiver ever so slightly. 

“Ohhhhh, I don’t like that,” Tenma said softly. “I don’t like that at all.” 

Suddenly, the pumpkin split in the middle, showing off sharp teeth and a long, glistening green tongue. It let out a stream of dog-like barks as it snapped its jaws viciously. And then, without warning, it leapt with saliva-dripping fangs straight for Tenma’s face. 

“TENMA!” 

“OH, WHAT THE _FUCK_.” 

The Hunter’s foot kicked upwards, smashing through the hard shell and shattering the fruit to pieces. Bits of the inner goop and seeds showered over the two magicians as they let out stunned yells. 

“What?! What was that!” Sakuya wailed as he wiped strings of orange from his face. 

“I don’t know!” 

“You don’t _know?!_ ” 

“Why would I know!” 

“You’ve known magic since birth!” 

“SO I’M SUPPOSED TO KNOW EVERY MAGICAL THING? I DON’T EVEN LIKE VEGETABLES!" 

_“PUMPKINS ARE FRUIT, TENMA!”_

_“NO, THEY ARE NOT!”_

“Botanically, they’re fruits because they have seeds! Like tomatoes!” 

“SAKUMA, I WANT YOU TO LOOK ME IN MY GODDAMNED EYES AND TELL ME HOW MANY CRAPS YOU THINK I GIVE ABOUT BOTANICAL DEFINITIONS.” 

“Banri told me! It—It’s a good fun fact!” 

Tenma felt like pulling his hair out. “NONE. THE ANSWER IS ZERO. I GIVE ZERO CRAPS ABOUT _BOTANICAL FRUITS_.” 

Sakuya went white as he stared at something behind the Hunter. “Oh. I think—I think you might have insulted them. Or maybe they’re mad about you smashing their friend…?” 

Tenma slowly turned his head. The bushes further away in the clearing rustled. A small army of pumpkins were rolling towards them like a reddish-yellow avalanche. 

“I _really_ don’t like that,” Tenma whispered as his stomach plummeted to his feet. 

Sakuya grabbed his wrist and began pulling him towards the woods. “RUN!” 

Their retreat was cut short by an ocean of green watermelons rolling towards them. 

“Oh my god, it brought friends,” Tenma muttered as he pressed his back against Sakuya’s. “Watermelons. I—I actually like eating watermelons. Pumpkin’s gross, uh, I like it in pie, but watermelon’s good on its own.” 

“Tenma, I really, really, really love talking to you and I think our conversations are super fun always, but this really isn’t the time to go in depth about what you do or don’t like to eat,” Sakuya said through gritted teeth as cold sweat trickled down the side of his face. 

The two of them circled slowly, warily eyeing the ring of gourds as the diameter shrank. 

Tenma held out a hand and summoned his sword. He wasn't too sure how much good it would do in Real Life Fruit Ninja but it was going to do better than his shoe. “We’re so screwed. I thought—I thought the golem would have been the scariest thing, honestly. This is so much worse. Death by vegetable. It’s like the first grade all over again.” 

“They’re fruits, Tenma, the both of them.” 

Tenma was going to put the sword through the Witch first if he kept this up. 

The pumpkins and watermelons leapt towards them.

* * *

Banri kicked Misumi’s door open. 

Kazunari fell out of the bedside chair with a confused snort. 

“Ouch, ouch…” He looked around with bleary eyes and slumped his shoulders when he realized it was just Banri. “What’s up, Banban?” 

Banri just grabbed the Caster by a fistful of his hair and dragged him out of the room. 

“OW! OW, BANBAN, YOU CAN JUST _TALK TO ME—!”_

“You owe me,” he pointed out firmly. “You got my ass on probation, right? So you owe me.” 

“I guess I do?! Where are you taking me!” 

Banri shoved his way into Tsuzuru’s lab and firmly deposited Kazunari in his honorary stool. He rummaged around for a moment as Kazunari wiped the sleep from his eyes and found a blank notebook. He slammed it on the table and shoved a stray pen in Kazunari’s hand. 

“Help me figure out how to get a ghost to eat food,” he demanded. 

“I—huh?” 

“You heard me, fuckhead. Get to work.” 

Kazunari opened and closed his mouth. He looked down at the notebook paper in front of him and then back to Banri. 

“I don’t think that’s possible.” 

“i wasn’t asking for what you think’s possible or not.” 

Kazunari frowned. “Like… bring him back to life? Is that what you’re asking me to do here? Because that’s going to be a whole other barrel of fish." 

“That can be for later. Baby steps.” 

Kazunari didn’t even know where to begin. 

Banri took out his phone. “I’m gonna airdrop you a few pages on ghosts I found in Council files. They’re in German and I managed to get a few lines translated properly but there’s still a shit ton. We can go from there.” 

“Ban…” 

“Now.” 

Kazunari flinched and looked down at the notebook again. He pressed the pen tip and flicked his tongue against his teeth. “Alright. We can try.” 

“I want results, Miyoshi, not fuckin’ ‘try.’” 

“…Okay, Banri. You could ask me nicely.” 

“You _owe_ me, assmunch.” 

Kazunari winced as a bad mood began brewing. But he sucked it up and started to read through the PDF Banri had dropped. Trying to get a ghost to eat food? They’d have to solidify him a little. Juza could turn into a wraith sometimes, couldn’t he? But could _wraiths_ eat food? 

The PDF was scrawled with so many annotations. 

“Banban, how long have you been working on this?” 

Banri didn’t say anything for a second. His frantic scribbling stopped. 

It picked back up, even faster than before. “Don’t wanna talk about it."

* * *

Masumi sniffed once, twice, yawned, and then went out into the hall. There was too much noise. Couldn’t he go to bed early _once_ and sleep through the night? 

“Let us go!” 

“We just w-want to help, we can do—you can’t even _See_ the things I can, that forest isn’t safe! The Director’s going to get hurt, she can’t do anything!” 

Tsuzuru was flipping through one of Yuzo’s discarded newspapers. He was trying too hard to appear casual but the jiggling in his leg betrayed him. “They’re going to be fine. They’ll be absolutely fine. You two are absolutely not going anywhere.” 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

Tsuzuru glanced at him and something in his eyes crumbled. “Ah. Masumi. You can go back to bed, nothing’s going on.” 

“Where’s the Director?” 

He pressed his lips together and didn’t say anything. 

“She’s out in the forest!” Muku yelled from the chair he was bound to. “They’re not going to let us help her but she’s in trouble!” 

“She’s what?” 

“That’s enough, Muku, don’t make me gag you.” 

The Seer’s face went purple with frustration. He suddenly turned his glare to Masumi. 

_Distract him_. 

Masumi flinched. The boy’s eyes were glowing. Since when did the guy know how to talk without talking? That was creepy. 

How was he supposed to distract Tsuzuru? 

_Any means necessary_. 

Fine. 

Masumi grabbed a vase and chucked it. 

“WHAT THE HELL, MASUMI!” Tsuzuru screeched as he ducked. The vase shattered harmlessly on the opposite wall. 

Taichi suddenly disappeared from his chair. His clothes went slack and empty and a tiny hamster skittered out of his sweater’s sleeve. 

Tsuzuru lunged. “Taichi, get back here!” 

Taichi did _not_ get back there. He beelined for the kitchen, going as fast as his four tiny feet could take him. Tsuzuru scrambled up to his feet and rushed in pursuit. 

“Untie me,” Muku hissed, struggling against the Rune’s ropes harder. Masumi tore through the twine, funneling a little extra magic into his fingers. 

Masumi wasn’t stupid. Half the time, Tsuzuru was too tired to lift a water bottle to his mouth but the guy had some nifty tricks up his sleeves from controlling six younger brothers. “He’s not going to be easy to run from.” 

Muku rubbed his wrists. “Yes, he will.” 

“…What?” 

“Hey! What are you two doing?” the Caster in question snapped as he came back with Hamster Taichi cupped tightly in his palms. 

Muku whipped his head towards him. 

“ _Drop_ ,” the boy spat. 

Tsuzuru dropped. 

“What the _fuck_ , Muku.” 

“D-Don’t ask. I don’t want to answer.” Muku sat back down in his chair and covered his face with his hands. “Please, just—give me a second. I need to think, I need to look, there _has_ to be a way to fix things.” 

“Fix what? Where’s the Director?” 

“I don’t know! Somewhere in the woods!” 

Hamster Taichi ran circles around them, squeaking for help. Masumi tugged his discarded clothes out from the twine’s bindings and dropped it on the floor. Taichi crawled inside of the pile and grew back. 

“OW! OW! HEAD IN SLEEVE, HEAD IN SLEEVE, HELP!” 

“Jesus Christ.” Masumi yanked the sweater off the changeling’s head as he continued to panic. 

Muku suddenly sprinted to his bedroom. 

“I’m calling Y-Yuki! We need—We need to open the box in Yuzo’s room!” 

They’d never answered his question about what was going on, Masumi realized. Ah, well. He’d get an answer eventually. Or else he’d go into the woods with or without info. Whatever. He huffed as he tried to haul Tsuzuru onto the couch.

* * *

“ _OW!_ ” Tenma bellowed as a watermelon took a chunk of muscle out of his calf, tearing straight through his jeans. He shoved the blade of his sword through it. “Jesus Christ, why are these things worse than the zombies?!” 

A pumpkin came hurtling through the air and smashed into the back of Tenma’s skull. He let out a strangled cry and went careening for the ground as black spots blinded his vision. Another sharp, piercing pain went through his shoulder as something bit down hard and ripped a mouthful of flesh off his bones. The air turned thick with the smell of his blood as it started pooling heavy all around him. Another clamped down on his knee and started gnawing. 

Too many mouths. Too many fruits were devouring him alive. 

Ironic. 

“ _Tenma!_ ” 

And then… 

And then it was like the world went to a standstill. 

If it hadn’t been for the breeze flicking his bangs into his eyes, Tenma could have sworn that time had frozen. The vampire fruits all went motionless, as though they truly were nothing but regular crops. Something in the distance buzzed. The noise was chilling and soft. Above all… the noise was like a whispered promise of death. 

And it was getting louder with every passing second. 

Tenma cracked open one of his eyes. Everything was fuzzy but he could just make out the blurred outline of Sakuya, standing a few feet away with his hands clutching the front of his sweatshirt. A black cloud was growing over his shoulders, a tsunami of sludge. 

“ _Behind you_ ,” Tenma whispered uselessly, tasting the iron on the grass. 

He shouldn’t have worried. The smog swept past the Witch, not harming him. It was when the darkness overwhelmed Tenma on the ground he realized that it wasn’t a real cloud. 

It was a swarm. A swarm of flying, chittering locusts. Hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions, who knew, certainly not Tenma, he’d never been good with numbers. Their wings and tiny legs bounced off every inch of his skin, hopping over him like he was nothing but the dirt he lay on. They began their feast, tiny mouths destroying the sentient plants just as they’d been destroying the Hunter a few moments prior. 

They weren’t hurting him, Tenma had to tell himself. 

It was difficult to process thoughts over the noise of rapidly fluttering wings and gnashing mandibles that scraped mercilessly at the shells around him. There was something high-pitched as well, in the distance, grating on the ears—Tenma realized only later that it was coming from his own gaping mouth. His own hysterical scream. 

A locust hopped inside and rested on his tongue. 

It was embarrassing, really, how that was what nearly tipped him over the border into unconsciousness. The feeling of six tiny, hair-like legs tickling his organ. 

Hands grabbed his shoulders and began hauling him out of the infestation with labored breaths. 

“Tenma, _please_ don’t pass out, please, I don’t know if I can keep us both safe if you’re not—not here,” Sakuya begged as he kept yanking the Hunter back. 

When Tenma had been nine years old, there’d been a stretch of a few months when his parents hadn’t been home. He couldn’t remember why, but he’d gone out to play in the yard one day. He’d played and played in the hot sun, throwing a ball to himself, running here and there. Then he’d passed out from a mixture of heatstroke and dehydration. The house spirits had carted him inside to nurse him back to health. 

The delirium now roused the involuntary memory. Delirium was what it was, wasn’t it? The haziness, the fog, the pervasive feeling of _losing it_ inside his skull. 

“Tenma!” Sakuya tried again, slapping his cheek. “Tenma, PLEASE!” 

The Hunter clamped his teeth down on his tongue, just hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. The pain was enough to aid him in his rise to reality once more. 

He staggered to his feet and shoved Sakuya away. 

“What the FUCK was that?” he demanded, dragging his sleeves over his eyes to get rid of the hot tears. “What—the _fucking_ HELL WAS _THAT_ , SAKUMA?” 

“T-Tenma, calm down, you’re freaking out—" 

“I JUST GOT BURIED UNDER A WAVE OF BUGS, ASSHOLE, I THINK I’M ALLOWED TO—!” 

“I don’t _know_ what I did!” Sakuya shouted, clawing the front of his sweatshirt again. He pulled at the fabric like he was trying to rip it off, like he was trying to breathe properly. “I don’t know half of what I do, or don’t do, or what’s ever going on, stop getting angry at me, please!” 

Tenma thrust a hand towards the massacre going on behind them. Goosebumps rose like needles out of his skin, so sharp he felt like a porcupine. A very, very irritated porcupine. “You’re going to stand there and tell me you don’t know what the fuck that was?! You were the one who did it!” 

Sakuya’s chin quivered for a split second before he set his jaw. 

“I DON’T!” the Witch burst out. “I DON’T KNOW!” 

“Fuck you!” 

“Fuck _you!_ ” 

Tenma froze. 

Sakuya’s face dropped as he realized what he said. He squeaked softly, a mouse with nowhere to hide. Sakuya stumbled back a few steps until he tripped over a tree root and fell on his rear. 

They kept staring at each other until Sakuya tore his eyes away first. 

“I don’t know, Tenma,” he repeated. He sounded so tired, so broken, so borderline sobbing. “I don’t know—anything. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I’m going to do, I don’t—I don’t—I don’t know how to save the Coven. I don’t know anything. I’m not ready for anything.” 

Tenma watched him start to cry, drawing his knees to his chest to curl up tight and try not to shatter. Admittedly, Tenma was out of his depth here. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to comfort someone. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had to comfort himself. 

It was easier to just move on and not get hurt, after all. 

Tenma frowned and sat on the grass, crossing his legs. He took care with his damaged calf—Hunters healed quickly but losing a sizable amount of muscle tissue would mean the wound would hurt for a while yet. Probably even scar for an hour or two. 

“ _I’m_ not scared about you,” he said finally. “You’re probably the only one who is." 

Sakuya didn’t move. Didn’t raise his head. 

So Tenma continued. “I know I’m, like, sixteen. And the youngest person on the staff. I’m pretty sure the Director forgets half the time that I’m not a student, and that I’m supposed to be Masumi’s teacher. But I get to sit in on some of the conferences at least, or… uh, sometimes I overhear what she says to Citron and Minagi. She believes in you. Just like the rest of us.” 

“I don’t know how to tell them,” Sakuya whispered. “I don’t know how to tell them that I’m lost and I’m not—confident in my magic. I can do things, Tenma, I know I can, but I can’t—control any of it, or, or, or follow theory as quickly as Banri can. I don’t go on instinct like Masumi. And I don’t have these uncontrollable surges of magic like Muku. I know Muku struggles with them, but I get so jealous sometimes. Every time magic forces him into a position, he… bounces back and figures out how to control it. I don’t have that. I feel lost _all the time_ but I have to keep pretending like I’m not. The Coven depends on me and I’m ready to fight to keep our home as it is but I don’t know—I’m _scared_." 

“You never had to carry the Coven on your own, Sakuma. We’re here too." 

Sakuya laughed bitterly. “Thank you for saying so. But it sure feels like I have to, sometimes. I never _asked_ for a quest, Tenma. I never asked to prove myself to magic society. I don’t _need_ magic society. I just wanted magic, and friends, and a h-home. And I have all that now. But it could be taken away? I’m…” 

His voice pattered out. Tenma almost spoke but, at the last moment, choose to hold his tongue to see if Sakuya would finish his sentence. 

“I’m angry,” Sakuya murmured, like he’d only realized it himself right then and there. 

Oh, _that_ was definitely not what Tenma expected him to say. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry,” the Hunter mused. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever… let myself be angry.” Sakuya leaned his head back and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes stared up at the clouds past the canopy of leaves overhead. “The Director told me once that she knows it’s hard to get angry when there’s something unfair, but that it’s okay for me to. And I think I’m angry about this.” 

“This…?” 

“The quest. I’m angry about it. I try not to think about it, I don’t—being angry is a little scary and uncomfortable. I’m not the angry type.” 

Tenma chuckled quietly. “Wow. Never would have thought.” 

At least that made the Witch smile. Even if it was the barest quirk of his lips. One that disappeared as suddenly as it’d come. “The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I feel like… _punching_ something. It’s not fair. It’s so not fair. How can they do that? How can they tell me I… need to pass some kind of _test_ to have something good for once in my life? Why do I need to be something in the eyes of people I don’t _care_ about to be with the people I do?” 

Tenma leaned his head back too. If only to look at the same sky Sakuya was staring at. “If you fail the quest, the Coven’s gonna close down. But I don’t think Reni can force you to learn under him. You can just drop out. And I don’t think he’ll, like, banish the Director to another province or whatever. There’s probably not a law that the Mayor can flex to do that anymore. The Director would probably get an apartment in the city or something. And she'd let you stay there. Knowing her, she'd still teach you magic even if she wouldn’t be allowed to." 

Sakuya didn’t say anything. 

Tenma wondered if he'd said the wrong words. He tried again. “Or… Minagi would let you stay with his family for a while. I can also totally see you guys getting an apartment and splitting rent." 

Another silence. 

Tenma tried again one last time. “ _I’d_ let you stay with me if the Coven shut down. At the estate. I’d ask Mom and she would love having a Firstborn Witch under the roof. And, yeah, maybe she’ll do it for bragging rights or status more than, uh, charity, but you’d have a place. The quest isn’t the beginning or end to you and the Coven, Sakuya, no matter how much the Council threatens it is.” 

The tip of Sakuya’s tongue poked out to wet his lips. 

He let out a single, choked laugh and shook his head. 

“Thank you, Tenma,” he said weakly, tilting his head to the side. “It’s nice to hear that. But it’s not just about me anymore.” 

“I thought you just said it was all on you.” 

“No. No.” Sakuya let out a breath. “The Coven’s a home to people who need it and that’s _never_ been just me. I want the Coven open because I want—yeah, I want what it gives me. But I want the Coven open… more for everyone else we meet later who needs it. Everyone later down the line who'll need a family, and warm meals, and won't have anywhere else to turn to. For every Muku and Yuki and Taichi and _me_ in the future. Magic was never the focus, you know, looking back. Magic was just… the opportunity for actual important things." 

Tenma blinked. 

“So what you’re saying is,” Tenma began slowly, “is that the real magic is the friends we made along the way?” 

Sakuya’s lips parted again. 

Tenma furrowed his brow. “What, friendship is magic?” 

The Witch inhaled sharply and then burst into peals of laughter. Tenma watched, utterly flummoxed, as Sakuya giggled until he started crying again. 

“My Little Pony, Tenma? Seriously?” he wheezed. 

“My Little _huh?_ ” 

“The—you never heard of it?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Sakuya ran his hand through his hair after he finally managed to calm down and then went limp against the tree once more, this time relaxed more than defeated. He shut his eyes and smiled softly, genuinely. 

“I needed that,” he said. 

Sakuya stood up and held out his hand. 

“Come on, Ten. Let’s get going before more, uh, blood thirsty vegetables come around.” 

Tenma let himself be pulled to his feet. 

“Botanical fruits,” he joked. 

“Yeah! You got it!”

* * *

Citron groaned as something hit the other side of his bedroom wall. He glanced at the clock. A little past four in the morning…? 

He sat on the edge of his bed and let himself blink a few times. He heard one more small crash from the room next door. So he hadn’t imagined it, then. And, realistically, it would probably need his intervention. 

Ahh. The woes of being in charge. 

He slipped on a loose white shirt and began to shuffle down the hallway. The noises were coming from Tsuzuru’s lab. He frowned to himself. Who was in there? 

He knocked. 

Silence. 

“Hello?” he tried. 

Nothing. 

Citron opened the door. 

“ _FUCK_ YOU!” 

“NO, FUCK _YOU_ , GOOD SIR!” 

He watched Banri pick up a stool and throw it across the table at Kazunari, who just barely managed to duck before it hit him. It smashed against the wall where there was already a sizable chunk missing from it, probably from a few stools already having hit the mark. 

“EAT MY FUCKING ASSHOLE, MIYOSHI, THE FUCK IS THIS?” Banri bellowed, waving a fistful of papers in the air. “THIS IS COMPLETE BULLSHIT, YOU KNOW IT’S BULLSHIT, I KNOW IT’S BULLSHIT, FUCKING JESUS COULD DROP DOWN FROM MOTHERFUCKING KINGDOM COME RIGHT NOW FOR THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST AND EVEN _HE_ WOULD CALL IT BULLSHIT!" 

“IT’S THE FIRST ROUGH DRAFT, BANRI, I HAVEN’T SLEPT MORE THAN EIGHTY MINUTES IN THE PAST FEW DAYS, WHY ARE YOU _YELLING_ AT ME?” 

“FUUUUUUUCK YOU!” 

He watched Kazunari bury his face in his hands and yell, “AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” 

“YOU DUMB _SHIT HOLE—_ ” 

“I AM TRYING MY ABSOLUTE BEST, _YOU’RE_ THE ONE TRYING TO DO THE IMPOSSIBLE—!” 

“IT’S NOT IMPOSSIBLE! WHO THE FUCK EVER DECIDED ANYTHING WAS IMPOSSIBLE? IT’S FUCKING MAGIC, HOW HARD CAN IT BE?!” 

“YOU _SUCK_ , BANRI! YOU SUCK!” 

Banri lunged over the table for Kazunari’s throat and the Caster reared back with a high-pitched screech. 

“NO, NO, NO, BANBAN, I’M SORRY I SAID YOU SUCK, YOU DON’T SUCK, I’M SORRY!” 

Citron wondered if this was the time to interject. 

“YOU’RE THE WORST FUCKING LAB PARTNER, I’D PREFER THE UGLY NERD!" 

“DON’T CALL TSUZUROON UGLY!” 

“HE’S UGLY!” 

“HE IS _NOT_ UGLY! YOU’RE JUST MAD YOUR DRAFT WAS GARBAGE TOO!” 

“YOUR _MOM_ IS GARBAGE!” 

Kazunari gasped. “How DARE you!" 

Citron rubbed his forehead. “What are you two doing?” 

Banri and Kazunari looked at him. 

Banri took a seat at the table again and sighed. “Working.” 

“…Keep it down. It is still very early.” 

“Yeah. Whatever.” 

Kazunari picked up a pen and the two began working, quietly this time. Citron took a seat at the table as well. 

“You can go,” Banri muttered angrily as he tied his hair back. 

“I do not think I can trust you two alone.” 

“Fine.” 

He glanced at Juza who was standing in the corner. The ghost looked _very_ lost. Citron waved at him to join them. There couldn’t be even a moment of quiet here, could there? 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. 

“Settsu,” Yuki said very carefully. He glanced at Citron and then back to the blessed. “Can I talk to you for a second in private?" 

“No. Busy. Scram, shortstack.” 

“I’m going to pour an entire jar of honey into your backpack if you don’t talk to me right now.” 

Banri genuinely _growled_ but got up nevertheless. He shut the door to the lab behind him. 

“What do you want?” 

Yuki held up his phone. 

Muku was on FaceTime. He looked—Banri didn’t know the exact word for the facial expression but it sure wasn’t happy. 

“ _You guys need to get back here right now_.” 

Ah, fuck. He _knew_ there was a good reason he hated the entire Hyodo family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapter's chaotic and a bit of a mess but the next one (we're going to be crossing into 300k! Hooray!) will answer a LOT of questions! Thank you so much for reading
> 
> edit: FORGOT TO MENTION. Vampire pumpkins/vampire watermelons are real myths! Look them up if you're interested, I laughed a lot when I found out about them


	41. Seven Cliché Boxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly cannot thank you enough for being so, so patient with me. I hope you enjoy!

“ _Witch! Witch!_ ”

“ _Witch?_ ”

“ _Firstborn Witch!_ ”

“ _The Birthright!_ ”

“ _Witch? Where?_ ”

“ _Find him!_ ”

The storm rustled with whispers.

* * *

Homare drove like he didn’t understand what death was. Somehow, at age eighty-seven, Midori Arisugawa drove like she regularly looked death in the eyes and forced it to back down. 

“ _DOES NO ONE IN THIS FAMILY UNDERSTAND SPEED LIMITS_ ,” Yuki roared as he gripped the hem of Madame Arisugawa’s nightgown in desperate attempt to not get flung into oblivion. 

Midori tapped her cane against the wagon's safety bar and it lurched to a stop. 

“That’s the problem with your generation,” she chided as she hopped off with a deftness that shouldn’t have been possible with such a withered body. “No backbone. My husband, now, there was a man with nerves of steel and driving tendencies of a devil. There are skid marks on the marble from when he’d tried to beat his record time." 

Banri rubbed his forehead. “Wow. I can’t believe your entire Bloodline is psychotic, that’s kind of admirable.” 

Midori snorted. Her joints let out a symphony of crackles as she crouched down to place a candle along the transportation circle’s outermost ring. 

“Sorry about coming by so late, Madame,” Kazunari said sheepishly. “It’s a real big emergency.” 

“Oh no, dear, it’s my pleasure! It’s been a long time since the Athenaeum’s had so much foot traffic.” She gave them a grandmotherly smile, shiny dentures lined with wrinkles around her lips. “Tell Homare I hope he’s having fun. And to bring back pictures!” 

“Y-Yeah, you got it.” 

“I’m going to frame them around the kitchen,” Midori said blissfully. “Help me up, dear, my knees aren’t like they used to be.” 

Kazunari hurried forward to do so and all three boys winced as her body let out a noise like a pillowcase filled with pretzels smacking against a pole. 

“Hold on tight!” she said, and clapped her hands.

* * *

“Get up,” Banri hissed viciously as he nudged Kazunari in the ribs. 

“ _Eeeeuuuuurgh_ …” He slowly got on his hands and knees before jerking up the rest of the way. “How does that keep getting worse every time?” 

Yuki took a moment to make absolute sure the floor was stable beneath his feet, before swaying to Yuzo’s door. It opened just as he raised a fist to knock. 

“You’re here,” Muku said, eyes teary from relief. He swept his friend into a tight hug. “I’m so glad. It’s going to be okay now.” 

Yuki hesitated and then patted his back. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” 

He didn’t like the way Muku tensed and then drew away. His brow was creased something fearsome but there was something unmovable in the way he glared at the woods. “It’s the only idea we have." 

Someone was snapping his fingers to get their attention. 

“Are you two going to be done filming your circa-2012 edgy music video soon?” Banri asked unkindly. 

Muku clenched his jaw and very obviously started counting backwards from ten in his mind. “You’re right. We don’t have time.” 

“This little motherfucker really chose the twenty-four hours we were away to hit puberty, huh,” he muttered under his breath. 

Yuki jabbed him in the ribs. “Shut _up_ , Settsu, try reading the room for the first time in your life.” 

“No." 

Taichi was pacing back and forth in the hallway, family sized bag of BBQ pork rinds cradled in his arms. He _saluted_ as Yuki appeared before dropping his arm. “Whoops. Sorry. Reflex when someone walks in looking angry like you.” 

Yuki frowned. “This is just my normal face.” 

“Oh…” 

Masumi popped his head out of one of the bedrooms. “They’re here. Can I go now?” 

“Just a second, let me get them started and then we can go together,” Muku promised. 

Banri paused. “Hold on. Where are you guys going?” 

“Taichi, Masumi, and I are going into the woods to do damage control. We n-need to try and find the Director before she gets herself k-k—” Muku cleared his throat. “Before she gets herself into a big mess.” 

“ _What_.” 

“You need to get the trunk open as soon as you can.” Muku bit down hard on his thumbnail. “It’s—It’s the only way—the storm’s coming even faster than I t-thought, saw, we should be able to make it but the timing is so…” 

Banri bobbed his head once in a nod. “Right. Wow. I mean, I always got the feeling you'd go off the deep end eventually but it’s still really sad to see it happen when you’re so young." 

Muku staggered back a step with a hand to his chest like Banri had just shot him. His eyes welled with tears. “I’m not crazy!” 

“Sure, dude. You got it." 

“I’M NOT!” the boy screeched. His cheeks were already splotchy red. “I’m _not!_ Just b-because no one sees what I do and no one ever bothers to actually listen to me, or t-trust me, or—!” 

Yuki tried to force Muku’s flailing hands down. “Hey, _hey_. Don’t listen to him. Nothing good has ever come out of that fashion atrocity. You think a head that probably thinks animal print is still acceptable on button-ups has any good in it? You’re not crazy, Muku, I believe you.” 

“Yo, what the fuck have you got against animal print?” 

Yuki physically recoiled from the words. “Oh my god, you _seriously_ said those words without a shred of irony. You deserve the electric chair." 

“I’m about to punch through your head.” 

“There’s no time for this!” Muku burst out. He wrung hands already rubbed raw. “Just—no time at all. Yuzo put a few more Runes on the closet door so K-Kazunari has to get through those first. Then Banri can start on the c-chests, and the three of us will leave. We can do this. _Please_. We just have to work together, it’s the only way.” 

Kazunari was already crouched at the door, wiping his thumbs over Runes and trying to flick through them. “Where’s Tsuzuroon? I can get through these faster with his help.” 

“Tsuzuru… is… indisposed at this moment…?” 

Banri clapped a hand over his mouth. “Holy shit. You guys killed him.” 

“No! No, no, no, I p-promise we didn’t—!” 

“Baller move. I’m not going to be a part of the alibi but I’m surprised you had it in you, Sakisaka.” 

“NO!” 

Taichi wedged himself between them before Muku burst an artery. “Maybe you can be Tsuzuru’s replacement for a bit, Banri! Yeah? Yeah? You said you’re good at everything, right?” 

Banri scowled down at him and then breezed past towards Kazunari. He shoved him over with his knee. “Move it.” 

“Wait, Banban, you might not want to—” 

He reached into his pocket and flicked out Minagi’s knife, tossed it into the air for a better grip, and then drove the tip of the blade straight through the Rune barrier in a fluid arc. The Runes shattered away like sugar glass. 

Kazunari scrambled away with a high-pitched whimper. 

“ _WHAT!_ ” he yelped. “H-How—?! When did you take that from the labs! Oh my _God_ , Tsuzuroon is totally going to have to start, like, medication or something when he finds out you took it." 

“I filched it a few weeks ago for the Council break in and just kept it around ever since.” Banri flipped it end-over-end once more, ignoring the way Kazunari shrieked and backed away further. 

“Banban, stop that!” he wailed. “You have no idea how dangerous that thing is, that thing could kill a magician with one stab!” 

“Oh, you’re kidding, that’s so sick. Can you guys get started on making me a set of wires just like it? I was thinking about it the last time we were here.” 

“I… I’m…” 

Banri pointed the knife in joking threat. 

Kazunari almost started crying. “That’s not funny!” 

“It’s kind of funny.” 

Masumi grabbed Muku by the back of his shirt and began hauling ass towards the door. “They opened the door. You promised.” 

“I-I know! You don’t have to pull me! Is Tsuzuru in bed?” 

“Tucked in. He couldn’t roll out if he tried." 

Taichi dropped the empty bag of rinds and ran after the two. 

“Good luck, you guys!” he called over his shoulder. “The woods don’t get good service but don’t forget to text us when the last box is open!” 

* * *

“How are you feeling?” Sakuya asked to the boy in front of him. 

Tenma rolled his eyes. “I told you I’m fine. I told you the last four times you asked.” 

“You… You broke your _ribs_ , Tenma. And then you lost a huge part of your leg. I mean, it’d be crazier if I believed you.” 

Tenma stewed in thought over what he could dish back as a smart reply when he hit the thicker part of a branch head on. He clutched his forehead and moaned as the welt began to spread small waves of pain. 

“Tenma?!” Sakuya yelped. 

“I’m _fine_. It’s just impossible to see in the dark like this.” 

Sakuya hesitated for a second and rubbed his hands together. “Hold on. Let me see if I can do anything about that.” 

He took in a deep breath and spread his palms, willing forth a small golden flame to life. Rather than extinguishing it, he gently pushed it front and forward, like he would with a beachball. The ball of flickering marigold drifted in front of them and then began to bob obediently. Sakuya did it again and then kept the two balls stationed, checking if he was growing tired at all. 

_Fire’s rare. It’s a constant feeding of energy and not a lot of people can do it._

He felt fine, oddly enough. But maybe that was just the adrenaline speaking. 

Tenma rubbed the last of the pain away and went back to the front, thankfully a little more nimble-footed with aid to his vision. They trod on forward. Sakuya didn’t know where exactly they were headed to exactly, but Tenma was walking and he probably wouldn’t just walk somewhere without thinking about it. 

Then, after a few more seconds of walking, Sakuya suddenly realized that there was a _very_ high chance that that was the case and moved to tug Tenma’s jacket. 

“You don’t have to make any more,” Tenma said, interrupting him. 

Sakuya’s hand frond an inch away. “What was that?” 

“The fire. Two’s plenty.” 

“…I didn’t make anymore." 

Tenma stopped walking immediately. 

Four small blue flames were in front of him, a little lower than Sakuya’s own golden ones, and less… balls of fire, more candlelights. They whizzed this way and that, almost like bugs in manner, before whizzing forward straight towards their faces. 

“Whoa!” Tenma cried out as he reared his head back from reflex. But the blue fire held no heat as they got close. He hesitated and then reached a hand forward to pass his hands through the ghostly flickers. 

“What are they?” Sakuya asked in wonder as he marveled over the other three circling around him, flitting towards his hair and twisting through his hoodie strings. 

Tenma wracked his brain for a past lesson. They looked familiar at least. “Will-o’-the-wisps. They’re harmless. Maybe they saw your fire thingies and got curious.” 

Sakuya tried to tickle one with his finger and did what he could even though it passed right through. “They’re kind of cute.” 

The two wisps at his hoodie strings suddenly seized them and pulled, yanking Sakuya in one direction. 

“Wha?!” 

Tenma’s own wisp dug into his hoodie and began yanking him in the other. 

“Ten— _AHHHH!_ ” 

Sakuya shrieked as he went careening off a steep hill slope. He rolled, banging hip here and there on passing hard stones, until he couldn’t even tell which way was up and was only semi-certain the ground had stopped moving beneath him. The cold, wet mist of a forest at nighttime coated his cheeks and chilled them, and it was only when he was certain his lips were blue that Sakuya felt like he could lift his head properly. Beyond the baritone ribbits of toads, he could make out the rushing of a stream near where he lay. 

The Will-o’-the-wisps danced around Sakuya and changed colors, flickering soft reds and golds like his own personal galaxy. 

“…Are you apologizing to me?” he asked as he realized. 

They swirled around him in excitement. 

“Oh, you didn’t mean to send me off like that. That’s okay. I’m clumsy, there’s a good chance that it would have happened anyways.” He reached a palm up and brought forth one of his own flames. The wisps began to play with it in earnest. 

He heard something flop in the river behind him and whirled around, only to see a seal lugging its fat body onto the bank. 

A seal? 

This far inland? 

He waved at it hesitantly, feeling as though it was watching him. 

A moth fluttered into his field of vision. Sakuya paused. But that wasn’t a real moth. A little blue, down-covered person was using those wings, so small they could have sat comfortably on his index finger. Three more joined the first one. They were like a tenth of Yuki’s size as a brownie. Sakuya could only keep on staring in bemusement as they chittered with laughter amongst each other. 

They flew circles around his head and then zipped back through the tall grass. One zipped back, chomped down on the tip of his nose playfully (it hurt), and zipped right away once more. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

He turned again to see the dryad from before. There was even the same cuckoo chick nestled into a cranny of her long braid, eyes shut and resting peacefully. 

“We can’t find the way to the house so Tenma and I are camping out for the night,” he blurted out. “I hope I wasn’t bothering you.” 

She waved his concern away. “The woods are all in a frenzy. They’ve heard you’re here. Hasn’t your mother ever told you it’s not safe to be walking around so late at night?” 

He ignored the way his pulse picked up at the word mother. “Who heard?” 

“Oh, witchling… everyone.” 

She threw an annoyed glance up at the sky. 

“It’s going to be such a bother getting my leaves back in proper place when they sweep through.” 

“ _Who?_ ” 

The dryad didn’t bother answering him. She waved a hand to the other end of the clearing. “You’ll find your knight over there. He’s been bothering the sweet sleeping flowers with his noise. Go quiet him, hm?” 

Sakuya wondered and then realized. “Oh. Tenma? He’s not my knight.” 

“He’s sure acting like he is with the way he’s yelling.” 

He chuckled. 

The dryad looked up sharply at the sky again like something was being a nuisance. Sakuya looked up as well but could only see the starlight and moon, maybe some more clouds than there’d been before. But that was normal for nighttime, wasn’t it? 

“And seek shelter quickly,” she said finally. She began gliding, spectral-like with the way her gown flowed, through the tall grass. “I’d show you how to get to your home but I fear traveling through the dark may be even more dangerous for you two. If I see Yuzo poking his nose around, I’ll point him this way.” 

“Good night!” 

She waved over her shoulder but said nothing else. Sakuya waited until she slipped through the dark concentration of shadowed trunks before heading in Tenma’s direction. True to the dryad’s words, he could hear his name being called before he even found the Hunter. 

“I’m right here!” he said, when the yells started to become more and more concerned. 

Tenma groaned, weight off of his shoulders. “If I’d lost you, I don’t think I’ll ever find a way back to Tokyo.” 

“Pfft. What, you’d just camp out here for a few years until Yuzo found you on a hike or something?” Just the thought of it was enough to make Sakuya giggle. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a cartoonish rendition of Tenma with overgrown hair and beard like a hermit floated to the surface and he laughed even harder. 

Tenma raised his eyebrow. “You good?” 

“Just fine. There’s a bit of a field back that way,” Sakuya jerked his head to where he’d left, “and I think the grass is soft enough to sleep on. Let’s go. Do you want to hold my hand so you don’t get lost?” 

Tenma’s cheeks burned. “Ha. Funny.” 

“It is!” 

Sakuya was so grateful the weather was warm. He’d read somewhere that exposure was the number one reason for death out in the wilderness, but the spring-near-summer night was comfortably cool. He reckoned he’d be able to get through even a blizzard alright with his trusty sweatshirt, no matter how threadbare it was. 

Tenma shrugged off his jacket and laid it over his legs as a makeshift blanket. They both laid down and just looked up at the night sky. 

“What’s your favorite flower?” Sakuya asked. 

Tenma pulled a face. “What’s the next question? Do you think pigeons have feelings?” 

“Well. Yeah, I do. A lot of animals have feelings, so why not pigeons?" 

“Oh my god.” He rubbed his eyes. 

“…So what’s your favorite flower?" 

He couldn’t even bring himself to sigh. “We went to the UK once a while back. My dad was doing a fan event.” Tenma reached a hand out and let the moonlight filter through his fingers. “Then the plane got delayed so we had a bit of extra time, and we visited a sunflower field. I was like… seven, maybe. Six? And the sunflowers were so tall I couldn’t even see them. My dad put me on his shoulders and I thought they were the coolest thing ever.” 

Sakuya rolled over to his side and propped himself up with an elbow. “What’s a sunflower field like?” 

“They’re sick. Have you ever seen a sunflower growing? Like, not the kind you’d see in flower shops.” 

Sakuya shook his head. 

Tenma chuckled. “They can grow over ten feet. And the actual blossoms are so big. I think I was actually scared of ‘em because the, uh, middle parts were so big and dark.” 

The Witch snorted. 

“Watch it.” 

“Sorry. It’s a little funny.” 

Sakuya patted the ground with his hand like he’d done before, getting the sparks started up. An image started forming in his head. 

“I’m not sure if I actually know what sunflowers look like in real life,” he confessed. “Is it something like this?” 

“Like what?” 

Tenma glanced to the side and couldn’t stop his eyebrows from shooting up at the sight that greeted him. A glowing, golden sunflower with solid, rich, chocolatey middle. The wave of tiny petals all let off a gentle light, like glow in the dark stars. Sakuya’s fingers were circling over it, showering the blossom with more and more magic. To keep on its toes. To make tweaks to it at Tenma’s request. 

His mouth felt dry all of a sudden. 

“The—the insides have seeds,” was all he could manage pathetically. 

The smooth middle suddenly bristled and shuddered, bringing forth seeds from absolute nothing in gentle ripples. 

Tenma couldn’t tear his eyes away from it if his life depended on it. “And it’s taller. Lots taller.” 

“I know, but we’re lying down right now so I thought it’d be nice if we could see it. Have I got it right?” 

“Yeah. Just about.” 

Sakuya smacked his palm back on the grass and it was like he’d lit a firework. Tenma’s breath caught in his throat as the entire enclosure’s ground burst to life with stemless sunflowers, a carpet of amber and honey colored flora. All still emitting the sweet, gentle glow that could only be a Witch’s magic. 

“Now you’re just showing off,” he remarked at last. “Was the light necessary? It’s gonna be harder to sleep like this.” 

Sakuya laughed loudly and flopped back down, leaning his head to the side so one sunflower could brush his cheek. “I can’t help it. Magic is so much fun. Without all of the pressure, it’s just _great_.” 

Magic… 

Tenma wondered what life would have been like for him without it. He couldn’t even begin to imagine it. For as long as he could remember, and even before, magic had just been a staple in how he and his family lived. He _knew_ this, from the enchanted crib mobiles of singing constellations, the string of pointy-eared nannies from childhood. When most kids were watching television and trying to figure out soccer with their chubby toddler legs, he’d been waving around a training sword and learning about why the Sumeragi Firstborn was so cool. 

“It must be nice, finding out about it,” Tenma mused. “You’ve got a crazy amount of magic in you, after all. You can do _anything._ Witch magic is more impressive than I’d thought.”

Sakuya hummed. “I like Witch magic. But Hunters are really cool. You and Masumi and even Sakyo from the Council are all super tough looking. I wouldn’t mind if it all went back to the beginning and I had to be a Hunter instead. I’ve read about it before and it sounds out of this world. You can see, and hear, and smell things so much better than I can.” 

That much was true. Tenma didn’t like the idea of not having magic at his disposal anymore. Being able to see things from further away, picking up the softest nosies before anyone else could. They were treats and skills he wouldn’t ever take for granted. Being able to smell rain before it even— 

He perked up. Smelling rain. 

Petrichor. 

_That’s_ what had been floating in the air that he hadn’t quite been able to put his finger on. He raised his nose into the air and inhaled slowly, straining the air for any hope that he was wrong. Nope. If anything, the smell of rich earth and rumbling water swelled stronger with each passing second. How had he missed this? Probably the woods. The flowers they were lying in wasn’t helping. 

“What’s wrong?” Sakuya asked. 

“A _huge_ rainstorm is coming our way,” Tenma muttered, getting to his feet. “Come on. There’s hardly even a choice anymore. Jesus, this one is going to drown us if we’re not careful.” 

Sakuya’s face fell. “Seriously? I thought the dryad was being all forbidding just for the fun of it.” 

“It’s going to be fine, we should have a few—” 

The sky went burning white for a split second before the clap of thunder had them both cowering. 

“…Shit.” 

“Spoke too soon?” 

The rain started pelting down. 

* * *

“OH, COME ON!” Izumi yelled up at the sky. “Why do you hate me?!” 

Lightning struck again, thunder quick in its wake. 

“Eep! Sorry! Ignore me!” Maybe going to mass with Tsuzuru’s family next time the offer rolled around wasn’t a terrible idea. Izumi was _never_ going to be one to say that she was religious but at this point, it felt like God-in-all-his-omniscient-knowledge was starting to have it out for her specifically. 

Yuzo let out a hissing sigh and rubbed his forehead hard enough to crease it. “I hope you’re feeling a little sorry for me right now.” 

“The way you keep mentioning it is helping me not drown in guilt, thanks.” 

She wiped the sides of her face as the rainwater began streaming down in small rivulets. Is this what Muku had meant by a storm? Forget even trying to find them, at this point she’d be lucky if she found them still breathing. There was like a forty percent chance, she’d guess, that Tenma had fallen asleep somewhere and would _drown_ in his sleep. She loved the kid but he looked the type to make it on a BuzzFeed list of most unfortunate, idiotic accidents. 

The sky exploded a third time and neither of them could step their bodies from curling up in reflex. 

“This is freaky unnatural, Yuzo,” Izumi said through gritted teeth. “What’s going on?” 

“You think I know? Nothing like this has happened before.” 

She had to stop herself from reaching over and tearing his goatee off. “You’ve been saying that a lot recently." 

“I wonder why, Tachibana!” 

Yuzo glared up at the sky, eyes narrowed as though trying to spot something in the murk. “I’m not seeing any lightning bolts is the issue. Why is the sky flashing if we can’t spot them?” 

“Hello! Can you focus on the problem at hand?” 

He pressed his lips together tight. “We might have another one to juggle along with the rest.” 

Izumi could feel herself losing years on her life. “You’re kidding me.” 

Lightning struck once more. Izumi clapped her hands over her eyes to not get blinded. The thunder, raucous and upset, was only growing in volume. She wondered if it was possible to burst her eardrums in a storm. 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Yuzo managed. His eyes were glued to the sky, uncaring if they burnt down to little slimy kernels in his sockets. “You’re kidding me." 

She ducked as the wind picked up a stray branch and sent it her way. “What? What! What’s up there?” 

Yuzo raised a shaking finger. “Can you see that too?” 

* * *

Banri sucked in a deep breath and opened the lid of the chest. Everyone tensed up, awaiting for the worst outcome, awaiting for any one of them to drop to the floor and begin writhing… but nothing happened. They exhaled.

“We still have a second box,” Yuki reminded them.

Banri went to work. “Yeah. We do. And I’ll bet anything they’re set to only unlock when they’ve got keys in them simultaneously. This is going to be interesting to figure out."

Kazunari tapped Banri on his shoulder. “Can you take the second box out? I want to take a look at the big one.”

The two of them hauled the second trunk out of the first and Banri resumed the lock-picking. Kazunari sat down and crossed his legs, running his hands along the soft leather interior like he was searching for something. After a moment, he let out a quiet, “Oh.”

“What? What is it?” Yuki asked, hopping off the desk to come closer.

Kazunari ran the pad of his thumb across one section on the inside of the chest, gaze conflicted. “…Wrath.”

“What?”

“Wrath. It’s written on the inside. Embossed, actually. Just the word wrath.”

Yuki hopped inside the box and squinted at the section that rose forth from the leather. Wrath. Potentially wraith misspelt, but that was just wishful thinking on his part. He and Kazunari exchanged solemn looks.

“I have a feeling I know what’s going to be on the inside of the rest of those,” Yuki said finally.

“…Yeah.”

“Settsu. You might have like five more boxes to open after this one."

“Five?!”

Kazunari got to his feet and quickly began casting Runes along the walls.

“Now what’s this motherfucker up to?”

“I’m just… trying to see if I can limit the effects of opening the chests,” Kazunari muttered, almost to himself. “I have a feeling that it's set to impact a certain radius. That’s why Sumi and the others got sick when we did it the first time. If it’s just us, then that’s okay.”

Yuki ran through the list in his head and winced. “Just us. That’s still going to be a pain in the ass."

* * *

Masumi slipped on a rain-slick mossy stone and took the blunt of the fall on one knee. 

Taichi reached a hand out to help him up. “Are you okay?” 

The Hunter slapped it away and got back up. He bent his knee a few times and clicked his tongue. “I’m fine. Let’s catch up to Sakisaka.” 

“What do you mean catch up? Wait, hold on, Muku?!” 

The young boy was already gone, slipping through the trees like a breeze. If it hadn’t been for his candy floss hair, there was a good chance the two of them would have lost him in the dark and rain. 

“Oh no,” Taichi heard him say as they struggled to catch up. “Oh, no, no, _no_ , this is so not good. They’re angry. They’re so angry.” 

“Who’s angry?” he panted. 

“How are they on opposite sides of the forest?” Muku wailed in frustration. He shook his head hard, casting water droplets this way and that. “No good. No good. They both need help. We’ll have to split up. How do we split up?” 

Taichi easily got lost listening to other people but he had a feeling he wasn’t just being slow here. “Muku, dude, can you please explain to me what’s going on? You’re freaking me out.” 

“The _storm_ , it’s coming our way and it’s only going to get worse because the Director is out there, the risk is huge now! It wasn’t this bad when it was just Sakuya and Tenma, I don’t understand, I can’t figure out what’s going to happen because there are so many variables.” 

Masumi clicked his tongue. “Muku. Hands.” 

“Huh? I don’t—” 

“Gimme your hands.” 

Muku stretched his hands out hesitantly as Masumi’s voice became tinged with impatience. The Hunter pressed the two given palms together and then reached back his own, bringing them together to clap Muku’s between them. 

_SMACK._

“OW!” Muku howled as Taichi winced. 

“Stop panicking,” Masumi snapped. 

Muku shook his hands to get rid of the sting and frowned deeply. He shook his hair of rainwater. “Right… Right… Thank you. I needed that.” 

He tilted his head up to the sky and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. The rain seemed to slow faller around him as the air suddenly became overwhelmed with the smell of pine and fresh plains instead of the earthy, dense forest they were trapped within. His pale, shaky finger rose from his side and pointed to the distant horizon where the clouds seemed to be darker, more tumultuous. 

“I don’t know what they are,” Muku said slowly, voice still and neutral. “They’re angry. They’re… they’re also scared. They’re on the hunt to destroy the thing they’re scared of. They have thunder and lightning and fire around them, trapped and ready to let loose. Yuzo’s barrier keeps them out but they’re going to destroy it.” 

Then a cold gust of wind blew the magic away and the Seer collapsed, knees hitting the slick mud. The ice was sinking into his bones that had been so warm just a moment ago. 

Masumi helped him to his feet, wordless. “So what do we do?” 

Muku rubbed his eyes hard, trying to make the dim stars go away. “There are two futures. One, they hold off on breaking the barrier until Banri and the others get the box open. Then… then we’re safe. The storm goes away. The other… the Director meets Sakuya and Tenma in the woods. The storm gets _furious_ and they shatter through. It’s too late and—” 

“What’s the difference between the two?” 

“In the first one, we’re there to stop them. That’s why we need to find them first. Either of them.” He groaned and wiped away the tears that bubbled up in frustration. “That’s why I’m here, that’s why I’m important, but I don’t… I don’t know where they _are_ , there are so many futures we could look to! There are so many paths to take!” 

He jerked a thumb over to a scattering of cobblestone that led into an underbrush, then a clear dirt track up the small hillside. “Do you see what my problem is? We could go anywhere! _Anywhere!_ How am I supposed to look through all that?!” 

“Do you need me to hit you again.” 

Muku jerked away and held his hands out in defense. “No, thank you. I just… I get too caught up. I wish I had ten of me so we could at least cut the work down.” 

“Masumi can find Sakuya and Tenma,” Taichi suddenly said. 

The two of them turned their heads to the changeling. He cleared his throat and tried to speak over the rain. “I said—!” 

“We heard you. Can he?” 

Taichi frowned. “I’d expect him to be able to. Hunters have that crazy nose for magic, right? And if it’s Tenten and Sakuya, I mean, magic is _everything_ in their blood, he should be able to get them no problem. It’s not like there are any other Firstborn Witches in the forest he could mix them up with.” 

Muku let out a cry of relief. “Oh, thank _god_. That would make things so much easier. And then you and I could go try tracking down the Director and bringing her inside!” 

“Don’t wanna.” 

“ _Hah?_ ” Muku snapped in a rare show of irritation. “Masumi, p-please! Come on, you know how serious this is.” 

“No. It’s not fair you guys get to go find the Director and I can’t. I bet you guys are just doing this so I spend less time with her.” 

Muku smacked his own hands over his face to hold himself together. “You can’t b-be serious right now. Okay. Okay. Masumi. Wait… maybe ten seconds? And then tell us your answer again.” 

Taichi nudged Muku. “Ten seconds?” 

“It’s the only way he’s going to listen to us,” the young boy muttered, face haggard beyond his years. “Sorry about making you stay out in the rain.” 

“It’s okay, I’ve been through worse.” 

They stood. Muku tilted his head up. 

“Should be about now.” 

On cue, the bellowing roar of a war horn shook the very ground they stood on. The swirling, tumbling, angry black clouds spat out a small horde of—

“Oh, WHAT! They’re naked!" Taichi squeaked and slapped a hand over his eyes. “I didn’t see anything! It’s okay! I saw _nothing!_ "

He wasn’t entirely incorrect. The women weren’t nearly as bare as they looked at first glance, with weapons and chains clad to almost ever surface of their skin. They were more bird than human too, with feet resembling talons and tiny down feathers streaking the corners of their eyes.

“Harpies?” Muku asked himself, flipping through a mental catalogue only years of being obsessed with fantasy stories could have compiled.

One of the women seized a strange grenade-like ball from her hip and chucked it. The ball came shooting down like a meteor, and burst into fire and electricity as it neared the ceiling of Yuzo’s Rune barrier. It bounced off of the shield with a loud clang and sparks fluttered down like snow.

“Ah,” he whispered. “That’s the word. Valkyrie.”

“Aren’t they cold without shirts?” Masumi asked.

“They’re dressed lightly to s-seduce foolish men into being easier to strike down,” Muku said, rubbing the space between his eyes. “It’s like… It’s like shooting fish in a pond while you hold breadcrumbs in your fist.”

“Your literature teacher must really love you.”

“Oh! Yeah! It’s my second best class, t-thank you!"

Taichi interrupted them with a panicked keen. “Muku, are we going to die?"

Muku reached forward and gripped his sleeve. Instead of answering simply, he asked, “Do you trust me?” 

The changeling felt something too similar to life-threatening terror at the sight of Muku’s glowing blue eyes. He slowly patted the hand that held him. 

“Does it matter?” Taichi said slowly. He offered the other an exhausted smile. “Luckily for us, I’m a champ at following orders no matter where they come from. Just tell me what you need me to do so we can all go back safe.” 

He nodded and turned to Masumi. “Do you get it now? Will you go find Sakuya and Tenma before they get themselves k-ki—before they get hurt?” 

Masumi hesitated and then jerked his head in a singular nod. “Fine.” 

He disappeared in a flash through the woods. 

Muku turned to Taichi and wilted, leaning against him for support. “This is going to suck, Taichi…" 

* * *

“What?” Tenma yelped as Sakuya’s hand covered his eyes. “What are you doing?” 

“Don’t look,” Sakuya said, voice pitched very high. He peeked around the thin curtain of dripping grass that shielded their little cranny away from the brunt of the storm. “Oh, _wow_ , I hope they’re not cold without shirts.” 

“Huh?” 

His hand pressed even harder. “No looking, Tenma! It's not... appropriate!"

* * *

Banri could remember what Yuki had said about there most likely being more boxes inside of this one, but that didn’t make the disappointment any less bitter when he tossed the two locks onto the floor and took out the smaller trunk within. 

“Miyoshi,” Yuki prompted. 

He was already feeling along the inside for another word. “Yep. Lust. There we go.” 

“ _Lust?_ ” Banri repeated. “Bump that. Seven boxes for the seven deadly sins? You’ve got to be kidding me, that’s so cringe. What are we in, Dante’s _Purgatorio?”_

“Just get to it, Edna Mode.” 

“Who?” 

“You know, that woman from the Incredibles. The one who designs the super suits.” 

Banri continued looking confused. He obviously wasn’t able to connect the dots. 

“You have the same haircut as her,” Yuki said at last. 

Banri raised his hands to his hair. “I do _not_.” 

“Yeah, you do. The bob. It’s very Edna from the Incredibles.” 

Kazunari clapped his hands. “Banri, do you need any help getting them open any faster?” 

Banri hesitated but then convinced himself to just drop it instead of punching a fourteen year old. This time, at least. 

“Yeah. You good at following directions?” He tossed Kazunari two wires and crouched by the third box. The padlocks this time, two once more, had a copper-y color and sheen about them. 

He guided Kazunari’s hands into the right position at the first one and slowly eased the first wire in until he could feel the way it caught around a groove. They ignored the thunder that crackled outside.

* * *

“Now what the hell are those?!” Izumi yelled over the caterwauling tempest. 

One of the winged women that circled overhead, a warrior with distinct flaming red hair, swooped down close enough to show them the razor sharp teeth inside her mouth and let out an unholy shriek. The flock swarmed closer with storm clouds trailing after them like loyal dogs. They chucked their lightning grenades against the roof of the barrier, each ramming the magic shield with fire and rage.

Yuzo grabbed her arm and yanked her to refuge beneath a jutting cliff. “Valkyrie. _Shit_.” 

“Eat my ass, what do you mean Valkyrie?! Those are European, there shouldn’t be any of them on our continent let alone this country, _let alone_ this specific prefecture!” 

Yuzo wasn’t even giving her the grace of bantering back. She could see the outline of a tendon sticking out in his neck from how much tension was locking his body. 

“Your kid is a complete and utter monster,” he snarled. 

“He is _not_. How dare you? You take that back.” 

“He caused this." 

Izumi’s jaw dropped. “You can’t just blame everything on him, you don’t know that!” 

Yuzo pinched the bridge of his nose in a clear effort to keep himself together. " Valkyrie are sensitive to magic. When they find someone or something with a high quantity of it, they become overwhelmed with a manic, instinctive desire to destroy it. Their warpath is a storm that can eradicate anything with enough time.”

That much she knew on her own. “How does Sakuya have anything to do with Valkyrie popping up in Japan?”

She couldn’t choke down her yelp as Yuzo seized her by the shoulders and shook her hard. “They haven’t just miraculously shown up here out of freak coincidence, Director, use your head for once! They came here with the intent to hunt your student down.”

The words echoed in her head senselessly. “Came here—what?”

“He shouldn’t have left that city. I’m such a fool.” Yuzo’s nostrils were flaring and Izumi wished so severely that she was a Seer so she could have even a glimpse into what his mind was processing. “Cities are warded against most Hellions, more than what I can replicate on my own property. But even with that, it doesn’t make sense for them to know he’s here from half a world away. I’m almost scared to ask but has your Witch ever gone to Europe?”

“No, he said he’s never traveled b…” 

Wait a minute.

Paris.

“Oh my fucking God.”

The ex-Witch swore at the top of his lungs and turned around to kick the cliff.

“Yuzo, please, we have to find him,” Izumi pleaded desperately. “Sakuya’s too young, he doesn’t know how to fight yet, he won’t stand a chance against those things.”

“What do you think we’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, Tachibana?! You think finding him is going to get _easier_ when we have hell itself trying to break through?” He dragged a hand over his face and flicked the rainwater collected at her feet, insult to injury. “Unless you’re about to pull a blessing out of your ass, we’re completely fucked.”

She set her jaw. “We’re not out of time yet. We can pull through. We’ve always pulled through.”

* * *

The trunks, now six in number, were strewn around the room. 

“How much longer is it going to take?” Yuki complained, sitting inside the most recently opened one. He blew a stream of cool air from his mouth to the forkful of instant ramen before starting to chow down. 

Banri flicked the singular padlock he was dealing with this time. An ugly black. Yuzo really hadn’t spared any expenses when it came to the aesthetics. 

“You think this is easy?” he snapped. “No one in this Coven appreciates me enough. I’m just your dog to call whenever you need something cracked, aren’t I?” 

“Pretty much. I don’t like talking to you if I can help it. You’ve got a really nasty mouth, Settsu.” 

“That’s _rich_ coming from you.” 

Yuki waved a hand airily. “I’m fourteen. I’m allowed to be snippety and filled with angst. Now what’s your excuse?” 

He stuck out a quivering lowering lip in mockery. He even threw in a sniffle for the dramatic effect. “Burnt out gifted child syndrome, obviously. Isn’t it sad?” 

“Ohhhh, I’m so sure. Eat shit, Settsu." 

Kazunari winced as Banri’s wire jiggled inside of the sixth box’s lock. Wrath, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth, and Pride. There were only two sins left and, if he was guessing right, there was a good chance this was the box that wouldn’t end well for him. 

“Hey,” Yuki prompted him, voice low. He put the cup of ramen down. 

“Mhm?” 

“Have you ever seen enchantments like these?” 

Kazunari shook his head. His mouth was so dry, even the thought of swallowing hurt him. “It might be Caster magic. Like the door.” 

“You don’t actually believe that.” 

He didn’t. Not at all. Kazunari had done enough reading into types of magic besides his own to know that this _couldn’t_ have been a magician’s magic. It felt too raw and unrefined. 

“I think Yuzo—or whoever made these boxes…" Yuki started, more to himself than Kazunari, before pattering off as he collected his thoughts into a more coherent train. 

Kazunari wanted to cut him off and move the conversation somewhere else. He’d already figured it out long ago. Maybe he’d figured it out the second he’d felt the curves of a leather-printed Wrath under his hand. 

“I don’t think it’s subjective.” 

He flinched and looked at Banban who was still focused wholly on the lock. 

“You know?” Kazunari asked. 

The blessed shrugged. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? If anything, they’re Yuzo’s warning. You’d have to be a dumbass to not know, the signs are all there.” 

“But what does that say about the people we’re living with?” Yuki hissed. 

“Itaru hasn’t been hiding shit since day one, his entire shtick is being a sinner or whatever,” Banri shot back, not tearing his eyes from his handiwork. “And I’ve been telling everyone we couldn’t trust that guard fuckwad.” 

“It doesn’t make sense.” Huh? Was that his own voice? He hadn’t meant to speak up, had he? “Not possible. Since Sumi’s there too.” 

Banri hands stopped. He exhaled through his nose, a sigh heavy with _disappointment_ , like he expected something better to have come out of Kazunari’s mouth. He took out the wires, melted down to worthless nubs from his pause, and grabbed new ones. 

“What do you mean it doesn’t make sense,” he said scornfully. “We didn’t even say what _it_ is. That means you know exactly what’s going on.” 

Ah. 

…Shit. 

The padlock clicked and Banri removed it. 

He glanced over his shoulder at his two companions and nodded sullenly. “All three of us might have to grit our teeth for this one.” 

He grasped the leather handle and forced the sixth trunk open. 

* * *

Ants. 

Ants under his skin. 

Millions of little legs scraping the insides of his muscles and veins, skittering here and there and everywhere, tearing him to pieces to bring back to the colony. Yuki dragged his fingernails over the stretch of his forearms and screamed. A wave of nausea overwhelmed him, and the terror, the sensation, the lack of oxygen, all combined to make his consciousness flicker out for a moment. The black nothingness was precious respite. 

And then he was dry heaving back awake, trying to rid his throat of sick that wasn’t there in the first place. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” he blurted out, teeth chattering too hard for the words to come out crisply. “Holy shit. What? What? Oh, that was _terrible_. Oh, gross, gross. Fuck. Oh my god.” 

Banri was sitting down with his legs stretched out, supporting his upper body weight with outstretched arms, eyes still squeezed shut. He groaned, long and loud, before letting his head drop to shake his bangs out. “Man. Now that's a feeling I’m going to have to talk about in like ten years at therapy.” 

He kicked the chest, irritated but not enough to put his heart into it. From where he sat, he could see the _Envy_ printed along the inner lining. 

The brownie looked over at Kazunari who was kneeling, back completely arched like he was mid prayer. Yet instead of being clasped in front of him, his hands were instead slapped over his mouth. Kazunari’s eyes were still stretched wide open like he’d been struck too catatonic to even close them. 

“Kazunari?” 

Banri looked over at him and frowned. “Bitch really is _that_ insecure under the dye job.” 

Kazunari heaved. Thick, sticky blood poured out into his palms, splattering onto his jeans and down to Yuzo’s carpet. Banri stuck his hand in front of Kazunari’s head and cast a quick healing, if it’d offer any help. Yuki was already getting to work, easing Kazunari onto his side and rubbing circles onto his upper back. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Yuki said gently, the voice he didn’t like using if he could get away with it but sometimes had to at a bedside. “You’re safe, we’re right here. Breathe in, breathe out. Stay with us.” 

Kazunari’s pupils were shrinking and growing too quickly, as though even the fight to stay calm was just adding on more anxiety. Finally, the tension in his body ebbed away and his chest was rising-falling steadily enough to prove he could breathe properly. He dragged the back of his hand to his mouth and wiped away at the drying mess. 

“Whoops,” he muttered. “F to the carpeting.” 

None of them spoke. 

Yuki figured Kazunari deserved to just stew in the humiliation for a bit before they forced him to move along. It wasn’t _that_ big of a surprise that all of them had been slammed by it, although Kazunari’s reaction had been a little over the top. A little spark of relief curled in Yuki's stomach, a spark he felt absurdly guilty about, that at least he hadn’t been the only one to keel over. If he had been in this room with, like, Sakuya or the Director? Or _Muku?_ Now _that_ would have gotten him scheduling the quickest available appointment for buying people alive. He helped the Caster sit up and lean against the closet door. 

“It was bound to pop up sooner or later,” Banri rationalized, lifting the seventh and last case out with ease. It was at this point just a very thickly padded jewelry box. Even the lock this time was inlaid into the leather, keyhole smaller and less forbidding than the others. “Text Sakisaka and let him know that we’re on the last one.” 

* * *

Masumi took in another deep inhale, closing his eyes. He let the smells swirl together before he tried to put a name to each and every one to filter out for the ones he needed.

Sun. Fire, the warm and homely kind. The burning rush of magic that charged the air in the same way your eyes teared up from smelling a red hot mapo tofu bubbling on the stove.

He ducked underneath a rotten mossy trunk and pushed the curtain of weeds aside.

“Masumi?!” Sakuya whispered loudly. He gestured for the Hunter to climb in beside him and Tenma. “Oh, jeez, you’re completely soaked. Are you feeling okay? I thought you would have made it home for sure.”

“I did,” he said simply. He crawled further inside and shook his hair of droplets. “We split up into the woods to come and find you once the storm started.” 

Sakuya made a face. “Sorry for being a bother. Are the… the women out there?”

Tenma tapped the palm Sakuya was holding to his eyes. “Hello? What women?”

“No peeking, Tenma!” 

Masumi shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Then we’ll just wait right here,” Sakuya said firmly. “I don’t want _you_ staying out there and staring either. It’s not appropriate.”

Masumi scowled and wondered whether it was appropriate or not to elbow Sakuya in the ribs. “What kind of person do you think I am? I wouldn’t stare.”

“Still!”

“Can someone please tell me what’s happening?” Tenma whined.

Masumi curled up and tried to rub the chill away from his arms. Muku had said the situation would only get very bad if the Director and Sakuya crossed paths, hadn’t he? Then, perhaps, sitting here like ducks and making sure none of them got into trouble would be the best course of action.

“…Why do you guys smell like pumpkin spice?”

“Don’t ask. Please, please don’t."

* * *

Muku waited obediently, nestled safe and tuck between the roots of a large tree, for Taichi to come scurrying back down. He held the boy’s folded clothes in his hands and tried to make sure they wouldn’t get too wet from the rain although it was pointless to try. A squirrel came prancing down and landed smack in the middle of the bunched fabric. 

“Did you find any?” he asked, dropping them. 

Taichi shifted back and shrugged his sweater on. “Yep. There are a bunch of them crawling all over the place but I think the closest is like a few hundred meters to the right. You sure this is going to get his attention?” 

“It’s the only way I can think of how to,” Muku confessed. “From here on, it’s more of me hoping than Seeing, to be totally honest with you.” 

Once again, thank God Taichi was used to just following orders because that sure spread a wave of goosebumps all over his arms. 

The two started making their way through the underbrush, getting little cuts on their cheeks from passing branches but refusing to be slowed down by them. Soon enough, the unmistakeable _thwip-thwack_ of Homare’s rose monsters could be heard over the pelting storm. Nothing else was clear over the sound of leathery, wet vines smacking against branches and stone, no laughter, so it was unlikely this was the one the Caster was riding. 

Muku really hoped the guy would be able to tell when one his monsters were destroyed. 

“Taichi,” he whispered, tugging his friend to a stop. “What’s the strongest, um… _form_ you have, do you think?” 

The changeling flinched at the question. “That’s a bit difficult to say. I’m used a lot more often for undercover stuff than actual brute force combat. So… so I have no clue. For average hand to hand, I guess I’d use Omi most since his extra weight is easy to manipulate. If you want me to knock that _thing_ out, oof.” 

Ahh, they should have asked Masumi to stay behind. Hindsight was 20/20 for everyone, after all. Muku nibbled on his lower lip as he thought carefully, ducking underneath a particularly thick patch of foliage to avoid the downpour. Neither of them were good at fighting so the odds were stacked against them. 

_What would Yuki do in a situation like this?_ he wondered. 

Probably whatever was necessary. Yuki was brave like that. 

“Taichi, we _might_ get hurt,” Muku confessed at last. “Like. The chances of us getting out of this unscathed is very low. You don’t have to come with me.” 

He looked like he was turning this concept over in his head. “Are the chances of you getting hurt lower if I come?” 

“…Yes.” 

Taichi shot him a smile. “Better me than you, then. At least I grow back if I lose something! But hey, are Homare’s monsters gonna be that bad?” 

“They sure are something, at least.” 

Muku shoved a branch down and they burst through to where the rose-spotted spider was crawling, long vine legs denying gravity through nothing but the will of Rune magic. Muku went sprinting for one of them, leaping and trying to hold onto the slick surface as best as possible while being flung around. 

“Wrap your legs around it!” Taichi bellowed advice from his own spot, melting into Misumi’s taller, willowy body and swinging up higher as effortlessly as an acrobat. 

Homare’s monster stopped as it noticed its two parasites and let out a high pitched screech, not so loud as to be truly alarming but grating enough to make Muku clench his jaw. 

“Mister Homare, we need you here!” he yelled, praying he’d be heard by the behemoth over the rain. 

It took every inch of self-control to stop his muscles from cramping up from sheer anxiety. He bent his elbows and swung upwards, squeezing the vines as hard as he could in his palm. 

He sucked in a lungful of rain by accident, forced himself to retch quickly and get it out, then bellowed, “MISTER HOMARE!” 

The floral monster quivered and then dropped like the words were some kind of command override. Or, at least, that’s what Muku thought until it jerked around, obviously gesturing for him to get on top of it comfortably. 

“Muku, you okay? You didn’t bite down on your tongue or anything?” Misumi—no, no, that was Taichi—asked. 

Muku swallowed. “Mhm. I’m alright.” 

He sat down on top of the viney, foliage dense middle of the octopus and screamed as it rocketed towards the sky on rubber band like legs. Taichi nearly flew off, caught in the middle of a transformation back, but managed to cling on with his fingernails. It was with a near Looney Tunes-esque _twang_ that the rose spider hopped through the air. Its movements were so strangely elastic in their nature. 

Through the wind-wrought tears in his eyes, Muku could just barely make out the vague form of another burden-toting rose spider leaping towards them. Sitting primly with legs crossed in the teetering red sedan chair was none other than Homare Arisugawa. Obviously, not a hair was out of place despite the raging winds. 

“I’m happy to be seeing _some_ familiar faces,” he huffed at them, before shooting the ugliest of glares towards the sky. “Now, would either one of you mind telling me what’s going on? Or is that a luxury I’m not privy to?” 

“We need to find the Director as soon as possible, Mister Homare,” Muku pleaded. “Do you have any idea where she is?” 

The rose monster suddenly dropped, dodging and weaving a crackling arrow of pure energy. It nearly caught on the grass below before the strong downpour extinguished it. 

Homare frowned deeper. “Oh, dear. Yuzo’s pair barrier has taken quite the beating, I’m afraid. Look at that, there are all sorts of small cracks now.” 

It took every single bit of willpower to stop Muku from biting the inside of his cheek and screaming bloody from the sheer panic. 

“Mister Homare, the Director _now_ please,” he pleaded. 

Homare waved his hand. “Alright, alright. Hold your horses. Let me see if I can get all three of us across the forest without any of us meeting an untimely assassination. There aren’t even any historians on the premises to ensure my legacy would be properly noted."

* * *

_Click_. 

Every single time. God, Banri had no idea why people did drugs. If they ever wanted to experience a _real_ high, they should pick up lock picking instead. The thrill of hearing the inner puzzle work out never got old. 

“There we go,” Banri whispered as he popped opened the lid. “Come to papa." 

Kazunari and Yuki craned their necks to see what was inside, but there was no point. Banri just picked it up by the sharp end and lifted it into the air. 

“What the fuck is this?” 

“A feather,” Yuki said, very matter-of-fact. 

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. D’you think it's about to do some magic sparkle light show?” 

“Maybe. Give it a second.” 

They waited. 

The feather began glowing bright. 

Banri pumped his fist as he let it go, spiraling up over their heads. “Called it. Let’s go.” 

Radiance, like the soft white of a rising winter sun kissing a bed of fresh snow. The very air itself turned crisp and crystalline as the feather danced its odd little flips and turns. They watched it curl up into a shining orb before it shone too bright and they had to tear their eyes away, shielding them behind cupped palms. 

When it died down and they could safely peer at the spectacle, the feather was gone but someone new had arrived. 

A white tunic flowed like dandelion fluff in the wind. His black hair, so soft and raven it nearly looked blue, had a handful of stars spotted throughout like diamonds, shifting in their own personal galaxy. His complexion was creamy in comparison, with kind features that could have been chiseled from marble. The glistening angel dipped his head down into a small bow, smile effervescent. 

“From the bottom of my heart, thank you for letting me out,” he murmured in a croon of veneration. 

“Uhhhhh, yeah. No problem, dude.” Banri shut the jewelry box and tossed it straight for the chest, not caring if it broke. “Alright. What’s next?" 

Yuki blinked and had to force his gaze to wander from the holy being and instead focus on his cellphone. “No clue. Nothing’s coming through yet. I think his reception's bad.” 

A thunderous roar crashed outside like a bat striking a gong and the building shook. Kazunari clapped his hands over his ears with his face screwed up in an ugly grimace. 

The angel’s giant wings, slightly unfurled but not stretched to their full glory, fluttered. He tilted his handsome face to the side. “This certainly wasn’t quite what I expected to awaken to. The weather is disappointingly rumbustious. Shame.” 

Banri suddenly perked up. He had an idea. “Do you think you can deal with it?” 

“Hmm?” 

He jerked his thumb at the window. “I have a feeling its magic stuff making the weather this bad and it's not just a freak storm. Do you think you can fix it?” 

The angel closed his eyes like he was entertaining the request. Then he flashed them a sweet grin. “I suppose it’d only be polite of me to do so. Alright. I’ll try and see what I can do.” 

Kazunari swept his arms to collapse the Rune barrier and Yuki flicked his hand to open the window. The panes smacked the wall and rattled viciously. Wind and rain rushed inside, sending all the stray shirts on Yuzo’s floor straight against his opposite wall. 

The angel paid no mind to this and flapped his wings once, twice, before sailing off into the sky. 

Yuki clapped his hands together to shut the window tight. The roar of the angry sky reduced back down to just an ominous rumble. 

“That was _sick_ ,” Kazunari said in the ensuing quiet. “With all the sparkles and stuff? Man. Crazy stuff. I swear I heard a choir somewhere too. Do you think he’ll take a selfie with me later?”

* * *

The Director couldn’t tell who was screaming louder when the bush dropped onto the ground in front of her, Muku or herself. 

“Hi, Director!” Taichi greeted with cheeks tinged green from the rampant tossing back and forth. “It’s good to see you!” 

“WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING OUT HERE!” she roared. 

Muku dropped down and hugged her tight around the waist. 

“You’re okay!” he sobbed. “You’re okay, oh, thank goodness! We need to get you back to the cottage as soon as possible, come on, Director, let’s _go!_ ” 

“Where did you two come from?! What happened to Tsuzuru!” 

“Director, I swear on my life I’ll tell you everything you want to know as long as you just move your feet and go back with us,” Muku wept pitifully, rain trickling down the wrinkles on his face. “Please! They might be after Sakuya but even the little Witch magic in your blood can set them off, you’re making them worse.” 

Izumi’s face fell. “But we can’t just leave him out there, Muku, he and Tenma are still—" 

“We sent Masumi after them and he’ll find them faster than you can,” he swore. The seat of his pants buzzed and he yanked his phone out of his pocket, wiping the screen on his sopping wet shirt before turning it on and praying the water damage was minimal. 

_he’s coming ur way_

Muku crumpled to his knees and clutched his phone in his hands. “Thank _heavens_. We’re okay.” 

He realized the Director was staring incredulously down at him. “Hah? We are?” 

The Valkyrie caterwauled, upset at the way they were being ignored, and began to bang their gauntlet-covered fists upon the barrier, seemingly unfeeling to the way the electricity fried their skin and burnt it vicious black. They were spitting their purple spittle, thick with poison and hungry for blood. 

“Are you _sure_ we’re okay?” Izumi squeaked, wrapping her arms around Muku’s head and trying to pull him further back beneath the tree boughs as though that would offer him extra protection. 

Muku smiled up at her, weak and trembly from the pure wave of relief that rolled over him. “We’re going to be just fine, Director. The angel is on his way.” 

“Ah?” 

Yuzo flinched violently. “The WHAT.” 

Homare let out a tremulous “Ahhhh…?” to grab their attention. 

“Director, I do believe someone is trying to intrude,” he said, words oddly lighthearted in comparison to the tense tone he used to deliver them. He stretched out his hands, red Runes sparking and flicking between his fingers at the ready to be shot out. 

Izumi glanced up and clapped her hands over Muku’s ears. 

“Shit,” she swore ever so softly. 

A winged monster in a particular frenzy, possibly messier and even more desperate than her sisters, was pressing her frozen helmet-clad head through a crack in Yuzo’s barrier. 

“You got any good ideas?” Izumi whispered to Yuzo, trying to rouse him from his stupor. 

Muku tapped her stomach to get her to look at him and smiled sweetly. “You don’t have to worry, Director. We’re going to be okay. The angel is on his way.” 

Wow. That somehow didn’t diminish in level of creepiness even the slightest bit the second time she heard it. 

“Muku,” Taichi asked in a warning tilt. “Are you _sure_ your timing is absolutely correct this time around?” 

“Yeah!” 

The Valkyrie pressed harder, wiggling hysterically like a fish out of water. The cracking sound, almost like a hammer stretching shards of plexiglass left strung together by the finest mesh of fibers, became louder. The storm picked up as her kin cheered her on, screaming murder and promising hell on earth. The barrier buzzed angrily, burning the Valkyrie with white and purple sparks and yet she pressed on. 

“Tachibana, perhaps we should start running,” Yuzo said very, very slow. 

Izumi took the first step back. “These things can travel as fast as wind, can’t they? Is it even worth trying?” 

The sparks flew harsher. Hotter. 

The monsters were screaming louder. They were so hungry and terrified and stricken mad. 

The fine mesh spread and the sole Valkyrie slipped through, shooting down towards them. As the monster reached for a grenade to send them all flying through the air in multiple pieces, Izumi couldn’t even inhale fast enough to let out a scream. All she could remember was shoving Muku behind her and squeezing her eyes shut— 

_Poof!_

“Oh! Gorgeous!” she heard Homare praise. “So reassuring to know someone else with good taste exists.” 

She cracked open an eye, blood still rushing through her body at numbing paces, and saw white blossoms drifting down like confetti. 

Oddly… 

The rain had stopped. 

No. 

She reached out her palm. Kissed gently by the drizzling shower, then graced with a creamy flower, that encased another blossom, this time bright yellow, within the center. 

The rain hadn’t _stopped_ , exactly, although it’d gotten much, much kinder than the unforgiving tempest from before. 

“Ah! I was wondering why there was so much commotion going on around here.” The angel slowly descended unto the earth, wings flapping serendipitously relaxed. “I’m so glad I managed to get here in time. Although I’m so sorry for cutting it close." 

If Homare’s jaw dropped any further, it would have hit the ground with a bony click. 

Yuzo was rigid-stiff. “Tsumugi.” 

Izumi frowned and slowly pointed a finger to Yuzo then the angel. “ _Tsumugi?_ " 

“That would be me, yes,” this Tsumugi person said warmly, clasping Izumi's outstretched hand with both his own before shaking it. “I suspect we’ll be seeing each other quite a lot from now on, so I hope we get along very well. Miss Tachibana, was it?” 

“Director,” she said softly, reeling internally. 

“Director Tachibana, then.” 

She glanced to Yuzo who had never been quite so ashy gray before. “Who… is this?” 

Homare’s hand was clutching the front of his vest, fingers digging into the cloth and his skin so harshly it must have hurt. There was an odd look in his eyes, pupils shrunken to just needlepoints. “ _Un ange_." 

“My ex-employee,” Yuzo muttered. “Someone who I have _finished_ my contract with.” 

“Well, I hope we don’t act as though we’re strangers,” Tsumugi said with a light chuckle. He put a hand to his neck and rubbed awkwardly. “That would… be quite painful to have to go through." 

“You were supposed to have stayed in that box until I _died_ ,” Yuzo hissed. 

Tsumugi’s arm fell to his side and as did his head. “I see your stance hasn’t changed in all these years.” 

Izumi raised her hands to try to get the two taller gentleman to notice her. “Hey. Heyyy. Can someone fill me in? Or, like, at least promise to later so we can shift our attention to what’s,” she waved her hands harder, “currently proving to be a significant problem?” 

As thought to help emphasize her point, a Valkyrie hailed down four grenades of hell and tempest onto the barrier that audibly creaked, tired and dying. 

“Oh, but hey, feel free to take your time,” she said bitterly. 

Muku poked his head out from behind the Director and slipped around to stand in front of the angel himself. 

“Did Banri and the others send you, mister angel sir?” he asked desperately. “I saw—I saw that you could help. You can make the storm go away, can’t you? We’d all really appreciate it." 

Tsumugi listened to the boy speak and then nodded once. He pulled away and swept into a low bow at his waist. “You’re absolutely correct, Seer. Thank you for bestowing the wisdom of your Sight unto me as well, and for reminding me of what I’m here to do.” 

Muku squeaked and held his hands out to refuse the thanks. “No! No, no, no, you don’t have to thank me, I’m just a stray piece of annoying, chewy seaweed in the ocean, I’m nothing, promise.” 

Tsumugi chuckled. “Ah. Well, regardless… please excuse me. I’m afraid I’ve made a promise with someone.” 

Yuzo’s face went completely white for a moment. “You—You _didn’t_. You didn’t already sign a contract with someone.” 

Something in Tsumugi’s eyes shattered, like the throb of pain in his chest was violent enough to shake him. He swallowed and forced his lips into a smile. “Oh, come now, Mister Kashima. I can do things as favors or shows of gratitude. Not everything has to be decided by contracts. You of all people should know that.” 

“…Should I?” 

“I suppose we’ll have plenty of time to catch up soon. Please, if you’d excuse me…” 

Tsumugi spread his wings and flapped them twice, kicking off into the sky and flying upwards as effortlessly as though he was dancing. He shot straight into the middle of the swarm of valkyrie, passing through the barrier like it was just a figment of all their imagination, and spun. The Valkyrie fanned out immediately and started circling around him, jeering. Hissing. Fuming. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized immediately, tone gracious, at the very least. He spread his arms and glowing specks of stardust shed from his wings, clouding around them. “It’s for a favor. You understand.” 

He jerked his wrists upwards and the Valkyrie shrieked, squawked, bent inwards on themselves and writhed in the agony of having their skeletal structures remolded through blinding hot white magic, and then were flying around, dazed, as gorgeous white herons who knew nothing of magic. Or actually, nothing at all, since they were birds and birds just didn’t have the brain mass necessary for deep thought.

"Yes," Tsumugi muttered to himself, tilting his head to the side. "That's much better, isn't it?"

The clouds broke and the sky came into sight, turning a lighter shade of indigo as the first signs of daybreak arrived. The herons flapped their wings and flew off, beautiful and serene.

"Hooooooly shit," Izumi swore. "Holy _shit_. I'm not the only one who saw that, right? Oh my _god_."

Yuzo's upper lip curled in distaste. "Fuckin' asshole."

* * *

“How much macaroni is too much macaroni, do you think?” Kazunari asked as he eyed the bag of dry noodles. 

Yuki clicked his tongue and made a wiggling motion with his hand. “Isn’t it supposed to be like a half cup per person? 2 ounces.” 

“Alright, so, if everyone comes back okay, we have us three, the director, Yuzo, Muku, Masumi, Sakuya, and Tenma… Homare, too. Do you think the angel guy wants macaroni?” 

Banri took out a big hunk of cheese from the fridge’s bottom shelf and smacked it onto the tabletop where the others were. "It’s going to be a motherfuckin’ _five cheese_ macaroni, Miyoshi. Jesus Christ would come down from heaven and fuck your mother if it meant he'd get to eat a bowl of this macaroni. Add him to the list.” 

“He’d… what? No, don’t answer that. Okay, so that’s twelve people if Tsuzuru’s awake, so… six cups.” He weighed the bag of macaroni in his hand and nodded. “This is just about. And then we need to make enough for Taichi too, so…” 

Kazunari ducked into the cupboards and took out four identical bags. 

“Dumbass. Get six, he’s going to be hungry after staying outside in the cold,” Banri snapped. 

“Oh, totally.” 

The door to the bedrooms suddenly slammed open as Tsuzuru staggered into the kitchen. 

“Wh—?! Where are they?!” he yelled, eyes crazed. He had trouble focusing them onto Kazunari. “…What? Why are you guys here? What are you doing?” 

The three of them exchanged looks. 

“Making macaroni and cheese,” Yuki said at last. “What does it look like we’re doing?” 

“Do you wanna help?” Kazunari asked. 

Tsuzuru blinked a few more times. He looked around the empty cottage. “Where is everyone?” 

“Still out in the woods. They should be coming back though.” 

Tsuzuru’s jaw dropped. He took a second to collect himself, dragging his hands down his face and then bringing them back to pinch the bridge of his nose. He exhaled from his nose. 

“Did I happen to miss anything while I was out?” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Muku, Taichi, and Masumi went into the woods. There was a huge storm but now its gone.” 

“We opened the box in the old man’s room while you were sleeping. An angel came out of it.” 

“JoJo Siwa’s trending on Twitter because she’s launching a new line of pride ribbons.” 

Kazunari leaned over to look at Yuki’s cellphone. “Oh, no way? Good for her, man, that’s crazy.” 

“I know. They don’t look too bad either.” 

Tsuzuru raised his hands. “You… opened the box? Angel?” 

Banri got the filled pot of water onto the stove and turned the gas on. “Yep. The little pink turd called us over saying it was an emergency and that we had to get the box open or you were all fucked. So, you’re welcome.” 

Tsuzuru kept staring at them. 

“Hey, you wanna go back to bed, big guy?” Kazunari asked, gently pushing Tsuzuru back in the direction of the bedroom. “You look like you’re still tired. Why don’t you sleep off the funk and come back to us?’ 

Tsuzuru shoved his arms away. “No, I don’t want to _sleep it off_ , Kazunari, I want to know what _happened_ but it’s getting really difficult to focus on how bad everything is when the three of you are all acting deranged and just calmly cooking a Costco’s supply of macaroni!” 

Banri rolled his eyes and sighed. “He’s so annoying. Does he ever take a break?” 

“Be nice to him, Banban, Tsuzuroon works so hard all the time that he can’t _help_ but be frazzled.” Kazunari patted the younger Caster on his back soothingly. “Right, Tsuzuroon? You work so hard, soooo, so hard. Okay. Let’s get you to bed.” 

Tsuzuru smacked his hands off again. “Kazunari, I’m not going to bed. Stop making it look like I’m overreacting, I’m currently the only one focusing on the important things right now, the rest of you are just being _weird_.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, we’re the weird ones, let’s just get you back to bed before you make yourself dizzy,” Kazunari pleaded, wary of the _look_ in Tsuzuru’s bloodshot eyes. 

Tsuzuru stared at him, frozen, and then furrowed his brow. “What are you guys doing? You can’t _gaslight_ me, Kazunari.” 

“What? We’re not gaslighting you. We just know everything is going to be fine and it’s going to take a long time to explain to you because you’re really frazzled right now—" 

“Stop saying I’m frazzled!” 

Kazunari held his hands up. “Right, right, of course. You’re not frazzled, you’re just a teensy teensy bit tired, and that’s totally valid of you man, like, trust me, we’ve all been there.” 

“Oh my GOD, please STOP TALKING!” Banri bellowed, slamming the countertop with his fist. “You’re using up all the goddamn air in the room so the macaroni isn’t fuckin’ boiling, holy shit!” 

Tsuzuru shoved Kazunari’s hands off of him once again and patted his pockets desperately for a phone. He wasn’t finding his cell in there. And, just a tad bit less concerning from an objective measure of monetary worth, neither could he find his wallet. “Does anybody know what time it is?” 

Yuki checked. “Hold on. Hold it. Just a little… aha. Hey-o. Four twenty.” 

“Let’s goooo.” 

“Haha. Woo.” 

Tsuzuru smacked his forehead with his palm in disbelief. “A.M.? Oh lord, I’m _never_ going to have a functioning sleep schedule again for the rest of my life, will I?” 

Kazunari pushed him. “Off to bed with you, man!” 

“KAZUNARI, STOP TRYING TO GET ME TO GO TO BED. Tell me what I don’t know!” 

His friend pressed the tips of his fingers together. “Um… I don’t want to do it alone. I want to wait for the Director to get here so you know she’s safe and you don’t get all scary in the middle of the story.” 

Tsuzuru blinked. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Am I fired?” 

“Probably not.” 

“For real?” 

Kazunari clicked his tongue twice and unmistakably did a little finger gun. 

Tsuzuru nodded slowly and went to the living room. “I’ll sit here and wait for the others to get back, I guess.” 

“Ahhh, thanks Tsuzuroon! You’re a _total_ life saver. I’m so grateful for you, man." 

Banri snapped his fingers. “Hey, dickhead, get your ass in the kitchen and help me grate all this cheese.” 

“You got it!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300k done! Hooray!


	42. Banri? OUR Banri? Banri Settsu? Pure-spirited?

The group walked through the woods towards the cottage in silence. 

Well, relative silence. 

“Your wings are amazing,” Homare said breathlessly as he stared at Tsumugi. 

The angel spread them wide and gave them a little flap, more to make Homare happy than for any legitimate purpose. The Caster clapped his hands giddily. 

“Does it hurt your back when you lay down on them?” he asked. 

Tsumugi’s wings folded neatly into near imperceptible pads on his back. 

The pleasant smile on his face hadn’t budged an inch. “No, thankfully. They’re actually quite thin and made of hollow bones so they’re very easy to ignore. I suppose you get used to it after having them for as long as I have.” 

“Stop talking to him,” Yuzo hissed. 

Tsumugi jolted like he’d been startled by the bitter tone but nodded once in submission, grin stained with regret at the corners now. “Alright.” 

Homare brows slanted. “But I have so many questions! They are burning within me like coals, like—!” 

“Shut up.” 

“The nerve!" 

Izumi cleared her throat and nudged Muku at her side. “How did you get Tsuzuru to let you out?” 

Muku sharply broke eye contact with her and stared straight ahead. Oh boy. 

“Nothing too serious,” he said finally. 

Oh _boy_. 

He stopped walking all of a sudden. Muku pointed into a small area of bush. 

“Masumi, Sakuya, and Tenma should be that way if you want to meet them,” he said pleasantly. “They must have started the trek back when the storm cleared up! That’s nice.” 

“Really?! Can you take us to where they are?” 

“I c-can try! Although they’re going faster than we are.” Muku picked up his pace, cupping his hands around his mouth. “T-Tenma! Masumi! We’re over here!” 

He ducked underneath a low branch and then slipped in and out of the underbrush, weaving amongst the plant life like he’d been born in this very forest. It was a bit of a hassle trying to keep up, honestly. Izumi always forgot how fleet-footed the young Seer was when he spent most of his time still and shaking like a chihuahua. 

“Masumi!” Muku called out again, before he approached a small clearing. 

True to his word, Izumi could spot three figures on the other side. Battered, rain-soaked, and _safe_. 

Sakuya didn’t even hesitate. 

He seized Tenma’s wrist in his hand and forced him forward, yanking him like he intended to bring the Hunter across the field even if it meant he’d have to drag deadweight by the end of it. 

“OW! Sakuma, let go! What’s wrong with you?!" 

“Director!” he yelled, raising both of their arms high into the air. “I found Tenma! I pass, right? That means I passed?” 

Izumi flung her arms around him instead of answering directly. “You’re okay! Oh, thank God, Sakuya, I was terrified out of my _wits_. You’re safe, aren’t you? Were you scared?” 

“But I passed?!” 

“…Yes! Yes, flying colors, A plus, a hundred and ten percent, I’ll even buy you a pack of gold stickers once we get back.” She checked his face to make sure there weren’t any nasty bruises. His hair was a mess of dry grass clippings and mud was smudged absolutely everywhere (they’d have to get him a new pair of shoes, there was just no possible way they’d be able to salvage them) but otherwise, he seemed fine. 

Sakuya pushed Tenma forward. “You need to check on _him_.” 

“I’m fine,” Tenma muttered desperately, trying to escape Izumi’s mother henning. 

“What happened to him?” she asked, turning his chin this way and that. 

Sakuya grimaced. “He broke a few ribs I think.” 

“He WHAT.” 

“And a pumpkin ate a really big chunk of his leg but I think it grew back.” 

“I’m fine!” Tenma repeated, louder. 

Yuzo smacked his forehead with a palm. “Those shits are back? I thought I dealt with them properly the last halloween season. Damn. Were there watermelons too?” 

“Y-Yeah!” 

“Tsk. Damn vampire fruits.” 

Izumi turned to him, wide-eyed and brow creased from something that toed the line of hysteria. “Vampire fruits?!” 

“They’re delicious when oven baked. I’ll send you a parcel next october granted your coven isn’t shut down and burnt to ash.” 

“That’s not the point!” She punched him in the chest, not enough to actually hurt but enough to knock the air out of him a bit. “What the _hell_ , Yuzo, this place wasn’t fit for a training camp at all!” 

He glared at her. “It was absolutely fine until your little weasels starting poking their nose where it didn’t belong.” 

“Oh, _ohhhhh,_ I see how it is, now you want to blame the kids for being naturally curious and embracing their autonomy, sure, let’s see how that panders out, Yuzo. Do you want to have the debate on Twitter and see?” 

“Don’t you dare, my Twitter account is for sports and sports only, keep your goddamned discourse off of my timeline.” 

Sakuya tugged Izumi’s sleeve, cutting off her poisonous little return. “Director, who is…?” 

Masumi shoved Izumi to the side to stand between her and Tsumugi. He scowled point-blankly directed towards the angel. “Back off. Who are you?" 

He chuckled softly but humored him, taking a few steps back. “I apologize if you feel as though I’m intruding. I’m Tsumugi, an angel.” 

He spread his wings as though it was the only evidence he had. 

Sakuya clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. “Angel?” 

Izumi dropped to her knees and poked the gaping hole in Tenma’s jeans. The flesh there seemed oddly pink and new, but there definitely was no scarring or bleeding. And Tenma was walking fine. 

“I said I was okay,” he muttered, cheeks flushing. 

“Can’t hurt to check, right?” Izumi ruffled his hair. “Thank you for keeping him safe, Tenma. It’s so nice to know I can rely on you.” 

He looked away, face only getting redder. “It was nothing. Can we go back home? I’m exhausted.” 

“You got it, kiddo. You know the way?” 

“…No.” 

Izumi snorted. “I do. Don’t worry.”

* * *

Yuzo sniffed the air as soon as he slipped his shoes off. “Who the hell was cooking in the house while we were gone?” 

Yuki sat up on the couch, green hair coming into view. “Oh. Welcome back, or whatever. Settsu and Miyoshi made breakfast for everyone. Hope no one died or got hurt." 

Izumi rubbed her forehead with two fingers and wondered if there was any energy even left in her body to get upset. 

“I think I remember asking you guys to stay put in the Coven’s dorms,” she said. 

Yuki’s nose wrinkled like she was being obtuse. “We came on a _hazard_ call. We saved your life. You seriously can’t tell me you’re actually going to get mad at us for coming here, right? That’s just not fair at all!” 

Banri emerged from the kitchen waving a ladle. “And? We made mac and cheese for you ungrateful shits. If you kick us out, _you’re_ the real bad guy.” 

Kazunari popped up from behind him, holding a bowl of it. “There are _five_ cheese in it, Director, come on! Be a little nice with us, yeah? _And_ we put toasted bread crumbs on the top. It’s so legit!" 

Izumi pursed her lips together and inhaled very, very slowly. She ignored the way Taichi shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously, before he zipped his way through the hall and to the kitchen. There was only so much the boy could resist, she supposed, and chose not to take any offense to it. Kazunari made a quick escape from the tense atmosphere, stammering something about helping Taichi get a helping. 

“Is Tsuzuru still here?” she asked tiredly. 

Banri rolled his eyes. “He’s indisposed of, at this moment.” 

“Oh my GOD, you KILLED Tsuzuru?!” 

“Sakisaka did.” 

She whipped her head down to stare wide-eyed at the Seer who was already holding up his palms and blubbering a passionate denial. 

“I’m not ‘indisposed of’, I’m eating,” Tsuzuru said as he came out of the kitchen, holding his own bowl and a fork to go with it. His eyes looked a little too clouded for comfort, but at least he was up and talking. “Welcome back, Director. I’m glad to see you’re safe, Sakuya, Tenma.” 

Sakuya waved. 

Izumi glanced at the mac and cheese the Caster was holding. 

“Is it good?” she asked quietly. 

Tsuzuru’s grim expression was all the answer she needed. “I’m emotionally destroyed and left in tatters by how good it tastes.” 

Banri stretched out his arms and gave a sweeping bow that dripped of sarcasm. “What can I say. Call me Chef fuckin’ Boyardee.” 

Tsuzuru pointed a fork with a curled noodle speared at the tip towards Tsumugi. There was no emotion on his face yet the dark rings and mussed hair said enough of the state he was in. “And who is this gentlemen? I swear, you know, sometimes it’s like I look away for five minutes and you bring home another guy. What will Matsukawa say?” 

“I _really_ don’t appreciate the hidden message in those words.” 

“I jest. I jest.” 

Izumi waved a hand back and forth in front of his face. “Hey, Tsuzuru, you’re okay, right? You still seem a little out of it.” 

Muku squeaked like he’d been stepped on. “S-Sorry! That might—hold on!” 

He clapped his hands together sharply. 

“Wake up!” 

Tsuzuru flinched, rearing away like Muku had instead splashed a bucket of cold water in his direction. He blinked a few times and then rubbed his eyes. “Oh, what in the _hell_ was that?” 

Izumi slowly looked back and forth between the two. “That’s what I’d like to know.” 

“Can... I go eat some mac and cheese?” Tenma whispered. “I’m really hungry." 

“No mac and cheese for you,” Yuki said sharply, running towards the kitchen to obviously get the pot away from the Hunter’s reach. 

“What?!” Tenma ran after him. 

“It’s… It’s a thing I learned from Mister Citron,” Muku whispered, pressing the tips of his pointer fingers together. “I’m sorry. I panicked, and… and I knew things were really serious so the only thing I could think of was to… you know…” 

“Knock me out?” Tsuzuru said in disbelief. 

“…Oops?” 

Izumi turned sharply towards Banri. “I blame you.” 

“Like, fair, but also what the hell, Director?” he complained. “I just made you a goddamn five cheese macaroni, cut a guy some slack." 

“And I’m going to be having a really long talk with Citron about not leaving certain things out of progress reports,” she finished through gritted teeth. “Muku, sweetie, we’ll talk about this later. We’re all a little worn out. Why don’t you go get some macaroni?” 

“A-Alright.” 

“Come on, let’s go together,” Sakuya urged, pushing Muku along kindly. “We’ll try to convince Yuki to spare a bowl for Tenma together.” 

Tsuzuru swept a hand back towards Tsumugi. “Right, right, ignoring that. Who is this again?” 

Tsumugi took his hand, mistaking it for an offering to shake, and tilted his head to the side. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Tsumugi.” 

“Nice to meet you, uh, Mr. Tsumugi. I’m afraid that doesn’t answer my question exactly?” 

“He’s an angel,” Izumi hissed. 

It was like she could hear a disc in Tsuzuru’s spine dislocate. 

His smile went so plastic it nearly shone in the light. “Ah. An... angel?” 

Homare made an excited noise and took one of Tsumugi’s folded wings to gently extend it, showing off the white feathers to Tsuzuru. “An _angel_ , dear Mister Minagi, isn’t it a delight? Isn’t it the most fantastic thing in this entire world? How absurd! Profound! _Sacré bleu!_ ” 

Tsuzuru started nodding very slowly. “I see.” 

He and Tsumugi were still shaking hands. 

“An angel,” Tsuzuru repeated after a long moment of silence, still shaking the angel’s hand, robotic both in tone and motion.

“Are you okay?” Izumi asked, starting to get genuinely concerned. 

“Oh, yes, yes, just fine. Peachy, in fact.” Tsuzuru gently pulled his hand back and pushed his bowl of mac and cheese to Izumi. “Feel free to finish this off, Director. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll be heading back to the bedroom and catch up on a quick nap. Have a nice day.” 

“Tsuzuru, _are you okay?”_

“I couldn’t even begin to explain to you how fine I am. I’m the absolute picture of stability and normalcy.” 

“Do… Do I have to call the hospital?” 

“Absolutely not. The premiums on ambulances are insane. Mom literally birthed Yuzuru in the bathtub because she couldn’t be bothered enough to pay for an ambulance with the state our insurance is in.” 

Izumi stopped him with a pat on his shoulder. “That was just an incredible amount of information I absolutely didn’t have to know, nor did I want to. Go to bed, Tsuzuru, I’ll check in on you in a few hours to make sure you’re still breathing.” 

“Thank you so much." 

Banri let out a low whistle as the Caster hobbled away, muttering disconnected syllables under his breath. “Wow. You really did it, Director, you broke him.” 

“Banri, is it your goal to get me to retire as soon as possible?” Izumi asked. 

Tsumugi stepped forward. “Oh, this is fascinating. I suspected it from the moment I saw you, but it’s clear now. You’ve received a blessing, haven’t you?” 

Banri shrugged. “Apparently.” 

Tsumugi leaned in, eyes narrowing. The smile didn’t quaver. “It’s not fresh, though. Perhaps from your father?” He sniffed. 

Banri took a large step back. “I know we just met, man, and you helped out which is dope and everything but _man_ , do you have a punchable face for some reason. Like, it’s all I’m thinking about right now.” 

“Oh, dear.” 

“Homare, maybe you’d like to show Tsumugi to a room so we can avoid a big old mess,” she cut in. “Banri, would you like to go back to the kitchen?” 

Banri frowned. “This is one of those questions where it’s not really my choice, isn’t it?” 

“I’m so proud of you for picking up on that.” 

“Tsk. Fine.” 

If Homare clutched onto Tsumugi’s arm any harder, there was a risk that the angel would be bowled over. The Caster had stars in his eyes that Izumi had never seen before, like he was on the cusp of a world-altering discovery. 

“We simply have _so much_ to talk about, _Ange_ , I don’t know how we’ll ever get past all my questions,” Homare gushed as he yanked Tsumugi to the nearest room. 

“Haha, thank you, I’ll answer to the best of my abilities.” 

The entryway was quieter now. She turned around to see that Masumi was still standing there, staring at her as though he was waiting for her to tell him what to do. 

“Are you hungry?” she asked at last. 

Masumi shrugged. “Not much." 

“Want to go to bed?” 

“I just want to go where you go,” Masumi said simply. 

Actually, the more she thought about it, the better mac and cheese sounded. Five cheeses? It was self-indulgent but she deserved it after the night she’d had. She tried a bit of what had been leftover in Tsuzuru’s bowl.

It was ridiculously tasty.

“Let’s go get you something to eat,” she said, herding him towards the kitchen. “Hate to admit it but Banri sure knows how to make a healing macaroni.”

* * *

“You simply have to tell me everything you can,” Homare said, hands uncharacteristically shaky as he poured a cup of tea for the celestial creature sitting across from him. “I hope lavender won’t offend you in any way? It’s a calming blend, very delicate.” 

Tsumugi accepted the cup and took a grateful sip. “It’s certainly a respite from the storm outside. Thank you very much… Homare, was it?” 

Homare preened at the way the angel spoke his name. “It is my pleasure, _Ange_. How dreadful to think that the Kashima fellow has been keeping you sealed away for all these years. To even entertain the idea someone could _ever_ hide a being such as yourself away like you’re something to be ashamed of is blasphemy. Although, I suppose I can understand the desire to keep such a treasure to one’s self.” 

He was bumbling over his words, which was also very unusual for him. 

Homare stretched out his fingers and then slowly curled them into a gloved fist, squeezing tight and reminding himself to come back to a calmer state. Years and years of trying to find texts about angels, only ever being able to read about them and hear second-hand recounts of the glory they were. And now, Homare had his very own angel just an arm’s length away. 

It was overwhelming. 

“It’s said that angels reside somewhere far away from the touch of man,” Homare said softly, unable to tear his eyes from the smatterings of stardusts Tsumugi’s wings constantly scattered about. “Somewhere beautiful, where we couldn’t even hope to fathom. Is it true? Is that where your home is?” 

Tsumugi raised the cup of tea to his lips and sipped again. 

“Are you… allowed to tell me? Or is there some divine code of conduct that demands I’m never allowed to know?” Homare pleaded, voice urgent and bordering unto desperate. 

Tsumugi closed his eyes, looking so still and at peace, as though he was just a statue on top a fountain that overviewed a sweet garden. 

“My birthplace is not so far as you think, Homare,” Tsumugi said, saccharine and gentle. “If you stay true to your virtues and love this world as dearly as the heavens do, I’m sure you will ascend to grace whether you have wings like mine or not.” 

“…My _lord_ ,” Homare muttered as he just let the words the angel spoke sink in. He reached for his teacup but stopped, seeing the way his hands were trembling. He didn’t trust himself with it. “Do you mean it?” 

“Every word, honorable Caster,” Tsumugi reissued him. Something in his eyes danced, maybe joyful, maybe teasing, as he crossed his legs and let his wings fan out a bit more. “I suppose you don’t have any more questions?” 

“So many,” Homare managed. “You’ll have to excuse me if it takes a moment for my thoughts to be brought together.” 

A sweet, melodic chuckle behind raised palmed. “Do I intimidate you, Homare? I would hope not.” 

“No! No, no, don’t be ridiculous, _Ange_ , it’s just…” 

How was he supposed to explain? 

How could he _ever_ fully express the hours and months and years he’d spent holed up in the Athenaeum, marveling at the angels depicted on their stained glass windows? Consuming every scrap and fragment of their history he could? He looked at Tsumugi’s glorious wings and was overwhelmed with a wave of envy that threatened to rip his skin clear off his body. 

What he wouldn’t have given up to have those wings himself? To fly up and join his brethren and leave this dull world behind? 

“Tell me more,” Homare murmured. “Of where you’re from.” 

Tsumugi launched into tales of golden lights and the smell of misty, morning forests that grew diamond leaves. As Homare listened deeply, his chest ached for the home that Tsumugi described. That was his home as well. It mattered not that he’d never been there, Homare just knew.

* * *

Muku clapped his hands over his nose and sneezed. 

“Bless you,” Taichi said, spewing out a spray of cheese droplets. 

Yuki made a disgusted noise and jerked away, trying to avoid it. “Were you raised by wolves? Don’t speak and chew at the same time!” 

“Yikes! Sorry!” 

Muku frowned deeply. He felt like he’d been doing that a lot nowadays. 

“Director?” he prompted. 

She raised a finger to have him hold his thought. She focused back on the conversation happening over her cellphone. 

“Yes, Citron, I get that you saw how dire it was, but how could you just let them go like that?” she complained. “Especially alone! You should have gone with them.” 

She listened to his words that no one else could hear. 

Izumi’s jaw dropped. She shot a look in Banri’s direction. “He WHAT?” 

More murmuring. 

She cupped her hand over the bottom half of her phone and hissed, “You _paid Itaru_ with a Steam gift card to have him threaten Citron and let you go?” 

Banri shrugged. “You can’t get mad at me if it worked.” 

“Yes, I can!” She ducked her head to resume exchanging quips with Citron, voice laced with irritation. 

Muku turned to Sakuya. “Do you know what a God complex is?” 

“Hm?” Sakuya swallowed his mouthful of breakfast. He rubbed his eyes. He was starting to get sleepy. “Um… It’s that, isn’t it? When you think you’re God?” 

“Does Mister Homare have a God complex?” 

Sakuya raised and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t… I don’t think so. Why do you ask?” 

Muku frowned and started nibbling on his thumbnail. “I wonder.” 

“…Okay!” Sakuya returned to his mac and cheese. This felt like one of those things Tsuzuru would recommend him to ‘just skip over.’ 

Yuzo cracked open the cap of a beer and handed it to Izumi. She accepted it gratefully and sipped, letting the alcohol warm her weary, rain soaked bones. 

“We’ll be back later tonight, expect late afternoon or night,” Izumi wrapped up, lips popping off the beer. “It depends on how hard all of us crash, yeah? I think I’m going to be asleep for the next half day. I’ll text you. Everyone on your end is fine, right? …Good. See you, Citron.” 

She hung up and let her cellphone rest on the kitchen table. She dragged a hand over her face, trying to massage feeling back into her cheekbones. 

“Heading back finally, huh?” Yuzo asked. 

She shot him a look. “Do we have a choice? There are cracks in your barrier, your box is opened again, your golems are _whack_ , and my kids are exhausted. Not to mention, _I’m_ exhausted, Yuzo. We’re all tired and I’m sure you have plenty to talk about now that Tsumugi is out and everything.” 

Yuzo flinched at the name. 

“Why was he in there in the first place?” Banri piped up, raising an eyebrow. “Not going to lie, dude, that’s kind of messed up. You can’t just put someone away in a box forever. That’s a crime.” 

“You are like the _only_ person who can’t comment on what is or isn’t a crime,” Yuki muttered. 

“Hey. That’d only be true if I was, like, incapable of discerning crime but all I do is disregard it. There’s a key difference.” 

Yuzo got out of his chair and walked to the living room, not sparing any of them even the slightest look. 

“What the hell? Dick.” 

“Language,” Izumi chided, getting up as well to follow him. “Finish eating, put your dishes in the sink, then go get some shuteye. Don’t forget to change out of your wet clothes before you do, you’ll get sick.” 

Yuzo was in his hand-carved rocking chair, creaking as he went to and fro. The bottle of beer still gripped tight in his hand was starting to dew on the label, yet he seemed too out of it to take a sip. 

“What’s with the angel?” Izumi finally asked. 

Yuzo pointed to his tongue. 

“It’s not like I can tell you anything more,” he said bitterly. “I can’t give you information besides what you’ve seen with your own eyes. Hell, I wouldn’t have even been able to say Tsumugi’s name to you if you didn’t see the bastard.” 

She found the nearest armchair and collapsed onto it, letting the tension slowly slip away. 

“Are you going to put him back in the box?” Izumi asked. 

Yuzo’s jaw clenched. 

“No,” he said very slowly, and then melted in relief that the admission was allowed to pass. “I wasn’t the one who put him in the box in the first place. I wouldn’t even know how to.” 

Izumi hummed noncommittally. “I guess you’re just going to have to get used to having a roommate around.” 

“I…” Yuzo swallowed. “I was thinking you could take him back to the Coven.” 

“Ahaha! That’s really funny! That was a really good joke, Yuzo.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“Tachibana, come on, please.” 

She shook her head, expression still pleasant and kind. “Nope! I’m not going to take an angel back to the Coven. You know, another creature that’s totally illegal to summon. Into the Coven, which is currently under tons of government scrutiny. A government that, mind you, is corrupt and disgusting and for some odd reason seems to have it out for us specifically. In fact, the very _idea_ of you trying to push this whole angel problem that you’ve been entrusted the responsibility of looking over onto me is so absurd and ridiculous and gosh darn hilarious that it _has_ to be a joke. So you are joking, and you are not serious, and I’m laughing. See how hard I’m laughing? Hahaha! Yuzo, stop it, my sides hurt!” 

Yuzo just stared at her with a pained look that creased his face aplenty. 

“Are you done?” he prompted in the thick, uncomfortable silence that ensued. 

“Are _you_ done trying to be a stand up comedian?” she shot right back. 

The door down the hallway, one of the spare bedrooms, slammed open and Homare marched out of it. 

“Mister Kashima,” he said gaily. He took out a small notebook from his coat pocket and wrote a Rune in the air that turned into a magnificent plumed pen. The two of them watched as Homare wrote something down, tore it off by the calibrated edge, and then presented it to Yuzo. 

Yuzo squinted at the immaculate, slightly ostentatious, loopy script. “The hell is this supposed to say?” 

“It’s a leave of absence for the angel,” he said, surprised. “I will be taking Mister Tsumugi back to the Athenaeum to live with me.” 

“Oh fuck off, Homare, no you aren’t!” 

The Caster’s eyebrows rocketed towards his hairline. “Director, why such crass language? And I shall!" 

Yuzo folded the piece of paper and looked Homare up and down. 

“Are you willing to lose your magic?” he asked. 

Homare gasped like Yuzo had just asked him to set a library on fire. “Excuse me? How dare you even propose such an idea!” 

Yuzo nodded. “Alright. That’s all I need to check. Make sure he doesn’t sign any contracts and try not to let him out of the house too often.” 

“You can’t be serious,” Izumi deadpanned. 

“I want that vulture _out_ of my house if he’s not just a relic to keep in a Matryoshka doll box, got it? I’m a man who jumps on opportunities when he sees them.” 

She glanced to Homare. “I suppose there’s no point in asking if _you’re_ serious.” 

“I am! Absolutely I am, Director.” 

Izumi went completely limp in the chair until her head lolled back and her neck started to ache from the strain of holding it at such an angle. Angels. Even she knew about the kind of power that flowed through their veins. The power of sun and the heavens and every other cryptic, flowery noun the preserved notes of olden magicians chose that day. Then she thought about Homare. 

“Join the Coven,” she said at last. 

Yuzo pumped his fist. “Called it. Score.” 

“Shut up. I _will_ kick you.” Izumi calmed herself down and started addressing Homare again. “Come join the Coven.” 

Homare furrowed his brow and inched a step back. She’d never seen the man look cowed like that before. “I don’t think that is a wise idea, Director.” 

“Oh, come on, you’d fit right—" 

“While I understand the overwhelming, strangling desire to have me close at all times, after all, who wouldn’t?” Homare flipped his lock of hair and Izumi made the executive decision to not react to him. “I’m not blind to the fact that you seem to have a rivalry of sorts with the current sitting Mayor. And as the Athenaeum and, accordingly, my family are very close to the administration, I don’t think it would be the wisest of ideas.” 

There was the kicker. 

“You know, Homare, angels are illegal,” Izumi said very slowly, articulating each word. “As in, you are already an enemy of the Council by asking to take Tsumugi in. The best choice for you would _be_ to ally yourself with the Coven if you’re planning on breaking the law anyways.” 

“You make yourselves sound like a hardened gang of thugs,” Yuzo muttered. 

“ _Enough_." 

“That’s different,” Homare said, waving his hand. “Our situations cannot be compared in the slightest, Director." 

“…And why’s that?” 

Homare rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

The tip of her tongue poked out from between her lips as she thought. She nodded once and then sat up. 

“Masumi,” she called. “Could you bring me my phone?” 

He was there in an instant with it clutched preciously. 

“Is he bothering you?” he asked, shooting Homare a glare. 

“No, no, it’s all fine.” Contacts, contacts, scrolling through her contacts. Ah. There it was. She pressed call and waited for it to go through. “Hello? Hi! Hi, hi, yes, I’m sorry for calling you so early in the morning, Midori.” 

One could not use words to describe the sudden pallor of Homare’s face. “You _didn’t."_

“Oh, he’s been the best help, I wouldn’t have been able to get through the training camp without him. I’m honestly in debt to your family forever! But if you’d let me ask for one more favor. The Coven’s starting to get a bit big and we need as many hands on deck as we can get. Would you be alright with letting your son work with us for a while?” she drawled, eyes locked dead on to Homare’s. “That’s fantastic! Thank you so, so much. Yes, we'll be back in the late afternoon. We’ll see you then!” 

A pause. 

She held the phone out to Homare, smiling. “Your mother wants to speak to you.” 

He looked at the phone in her hand and then back at the Director. 

“This is the dirtiest trick anyone has ever pulled towards me in my entire life,” Homare whispered, lest he be picked up by the microphone. “That blow was so low, it scraped the barrels down in hell itself. I never took you to be the type to play like a scoundrel, Director.” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” 

“My _mother?_ My _mother_. You contacted my _mother_.” 

She waved the phone again. “Argue with her, Homare. I’m. _So_ tired. And I want to head to bed soon.” 

Homare took one more look and then turned around, coattails flaring. He stomped towards the bedroom again, looking a bit too much like he was throwing a tantrum. “I’ll be contacting her on my own later. Tell her I am upset and do not wish to speak to her.” 

“He’s busy at the moment, Midori!” Izumi said instead. “I’m sure you guys will have _plenty_ to talk about once we get back. See you soon!” 

She hung up and dropped the phone onto her stomach. She curled up in the plush armchair and closed her eyes. 

“You should go to sleep too, Masumi,” she murmured, too worn out to move and listen to her own advice of changing out of rain-soaked clothes. “Everyone was up the entire night.” 

Yuzo pushed the Hunter out of the living room when he didn’t move, ignoring the teen when he clicked his tongue and tried to struggle. “Your Director’s about to pass out. Go tell the other brats to finish up eating.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” 

She was just drifting off when she felt a blanket get draped over her. 

“You’re going to have to go through a lot more than just tonight, Director,” Yuzo said simply, before crashing back into his armchair and closing his own weary eyes. “Feels like a legend is just beginning.”

* * *

Izumi was so sure the ache in her body meant she would have slept for twelve hours straight. It was through a cruel twist of fate when she opened her eyes to the late-morning sun that streamed in through Yuzo’s window. The ex-Witch was still asleep on the chair, limbs splayed out and snoring loudly with his mouth open. 

She checked her phone and groaned at the 10 AM that greeted her eyes. It was too early. But even though she closed her eyes and tried to sink back into the comfortable darkness of dreams, it alluded her. So it was with a world weary groan probably a few years too old for her that she got to her feet and walked into the kitchen. 

Izumi didn’t know exactly how to react to the winged man currently sponging a cheese-splattered plate at the sink. 

“I saw the dishes and I thought it would be helpful if I washed them,” Tsumugi explained as he heard her footsteps approach. “I hope that’s alright?” 

“Uh. Yeah! Yeah, sure.” She scratched her head. “I’m sure Yuzo would appreciate it. Hand them to me and I’ll dry them off." 

And so, Izumi was side by side, washing dishes with an angel. Who would have thought the day would come? 

“Sorry if Homare bullied you into coming with him,” she said, trying to spark a conversation. “If you want to stay here, you can. I’m sure I can convince him, even if he appears to be smitten with you." 

“I’m fine with that,” Tsumugi said as he handed her a plate to dry off. 

“You are?” 

“Mhm. Homare seems like a good person, even if he does show his excitement in different ways. It’s nice to be accepted so warmly, if anything I should be grateful. And I suppose the rest of the people here are good as well. It would be an honor to go back with you to your Coven." 

She preened. “They sure are! You’ve got a great eye for people, don’t you, Tsumugi?” 

He chuckled. “It’s not my opinion, Director Tachibana. Only good people could have opened those boxes.” 

...Huh? 

Wait, that didn’t check out. Hadn’t it been—? 

“Banri. Was the one who opened your box,” she said carefully. 

Tsumugi beamed at the soapy porcelain he scrubbed. “Indeed. He has the blessing of one of our own, of course. It would make sense for his heart to be as golden and honorable as the ancestor who received it originally.” 

Izumi nodded once, drying the next cup. 

“Banri,” she repeated after a moment of thought. 

“Yes!” 

“ _Banri_.” 

“Bless him, truly, no?” 

“No, no, you’re right, bless Banri, but… like… well…” How was she supposed to phrase this? “What do you _mean_ only good people can open your box?” 

Tsumugi’s smile turned pained. “Did Yuzo not tell you?” 

“I’m afraid he can’t.” 

“Mmm. My chests were layered with seven enchantments to stop the wicked from accessing me.” Tsumugi turned the faucet off as he became little too wrapped up in his thoughts to continue washing. “Angels stay on this realm as long as their summoner lives, even if the contract is finished. We are different in that way from other beings who are summoned.” 

Izumi remembered something Itaru had said, about how he’d return to hell once Misumi’s contract was fulfilled. Tsumugi obviously didn’t follow the same rules. 

“If we make another contract before our summoner passes, we get to stay longer. Yuzo… does not want me to do so." 

“Are you upset at him about it?” she asked. “The trapping thing." 

Tsumugi shook his head. “He’s my summoner. If he chooses to seal me away until he leaves this world and I am untethered, then so be it.” 

She disagreed with that notion but let Tsumugi keep speaking. 

“He was afraid I’d be hunted down and sought after by unsavory characters. Thus, the seven enchantments. To reach an angel, only a brave and pure-spirited hero could pass all of those openings.” 

“We’re still talking about Banri, right? Like, the angry looking guy with hair up to his neck? That one?" 

“We are.” 

Izumi pinched her thigh to make sure she was still awake. It hurt. She still didn’t totally believe it. There was just no way. 

“How do you tell if someone is brave and ‘pure-spirited?’” she dug. Because, sure, Banri was brave, that could be something she accepted. But pure-spirited? Come on, now. 

Tsumugi reached for her hand and patted it, casting a small spell to dry them off instantly. “Each box contains a sin that proves the individual is unfit to contract an angel. Even if, forbid it, someone had forced Yuzo through intimidation to open the box, they would have been incapacitated by the judgement unleashed.” 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Hold on. 

“Sins?” she asked. “I… you wouldn’t happen to know what was in that first box’s specifications, would you?” 

“Wrath,” Tsumugi said, face wrinkling with the sheer distaste he had for the word. “The sin of hurting others borne from an uncontrollable rage. No one like that deserves to contract a heavenly creature.” 

Izumi relaxed. “Oh. Just hurting?” She could work with that. That was redeemable. 

“No, no. Murder. The first box is meant to immobilize whoever has killed another in the past.” 

Oh, _fuck_.

* * *

She knocked on the door to Tsuzuru’s room. 

“Come in!” Kazunari called. 

She peaked inside to find the Caster in the corner, sketching away. Tsuzuru, Masumi, Sakuya, and Tenma were all completely wiped out on the futons, buried deep within the covers so only the top of their heads stuck out. 

“I thought everyone would be sleeping,” Izumi said hesitantly. 

Kazunari chuckled dryly. “I tried, if it helps. I thought I’d be knocked out too, but… here I am.” 

Right. 

“You were right about Yuzo’s secret being big, at least,” she said. 

Kazunari was quiet. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. But I’m still a little concerned about how much you seem to do disregarding my authority. The Coven needs to work together, Kazunari. We already have so many odds stacked against us.” 

His pencil stopped moving. He took in a shuddering breath and touched the brim of his hat, like it was the only comfort he had to cling onto. 

“I know, Director,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry. I’m not good at, uh, going over plans with others. I guess I’m just used to working on things on my own.” 

“I’ll listen to you, Kazunari. I’ll help you sort things out. I’d rather that than having to just clean the mistakes afterwards like some kind of janitor.” 

He ducked his head. “I got it.” 

She figured that was enough ribbing for today, at least. The three of them, even if on thin ice, _had_ helped out however they could during the late hours. That must have counted for something, right? 

“I have to wake Tsuzuru up and try to talk to him,” Izumi said, inching towards the mop of mousey brown hair. She tugged the duvet back and frowned, already tired despite her nap. “Who drew the dick and balls on his face?” 

“I… I’m not a snitch, Director, sorry.” 

“Say nothing if it was Banri.” 

“…” 

She rubbed her forehead. Pure-spirited her ass. “Where is he?” 

“I think he went to go sleep in Yuki's room because it was getting cramped in here.” 

“Right.” 

She poked the Caster’s face, right where the two balls (drawn large and hairy) were. Tsuzuru opened a bleary eye. 

“What,” he said flatly. “You can’t go even a few hours without bugging me?" 

Maybe she just wouldn’t tell him. No, no, that was juvenile, Izumi. 

“Banri drew a penis on your face.” 

Tsuzuru bolted up, jaw dropping. He touched his cheeks like he’d be able to feel the marker marks. “He WHAT?” 

She handed him her phone, camera turned on and flipped for selfies. Tsuzuru groaned as he stared at it and scrubbed with dry hands, not being able to do much. He crawled out of the futon, miserable, like all he wanted to do was just lie back down and continue snoozing, but trudged towards the bathroom. Kazunari tried desperately not to laugh as he exited. 

Izumi leaned on the bathroom door’s frame as Tsuzuru scrubbed the drawn penis away. 

“How much do you remember from before you conked out?” 

“… _Please_ tell me the angel thing was just a severe fever dream.” 

“Oof.” 

He groaned, checking the reddened skin in the mirror’s reflection to make sure he’d gotten it all off. “How does this always happen to us?” 

“I wish I knew. There’s something I need to tell you.” 

“Hm?” 

She hesitated, stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. “Tsumugi said… there are special enchantments in place. The first box is meant to be warded off against—” There would be no easy way to place this. She just had to rip the bandaid off. “Murderers.” 

Tsuzuru didn’t move. Izumi watched him rouse himself from the stupor and turn the faucet off. He patted his face dry with a towel and then stared at the fibers of the cloth. 

“Murderers,” he echoed. 

“I just—I don’t want you to think I’m planning on booting Misumi and Omi to the curb once we got back, but this doesn’t feel like something I should keep to myself, you know?” Izumi wrung her hands to quell her nerves. “I’m a little, uh, unnerved by it but I already asked Tsumugi not to tell the others. So it’s between us.” 

Tsuzuru thumbed light circles into the towel as he bit the inside of his cheeks. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t an anxious, slightly fearful fist curling tight around his stomach. He shook his head. 

“We’ll talk to them about it when we get back,” he said at last. “Maybe there’s context. It’s too early to pass any judgement right now. I genuinely can’t imagine either of them doing something that’ll hurt the Coven, so that’s a small comfort.” 

“Yeah. I’m not completely on board with trusting Tsumugi’s judgement right now. You know he thinks Banri is this ‘pure-spirited’ hero that has no ill will?” 

Tsuzuru’s eyes widened. “Banri? Like, just-drew-a-dick-on-my-face Banri? Our Banri Settsu? The seventeen year old student still going through compulsory education who has a _parole officer?_ ” 

“Pure-spirited was a direct quote.” 

“What the hell?” 

She tossed her hands into the air. “That’s what I thought.”

* * *

They sprawled on the marble floor of the Athenaeum, groaning. Most of them, at lest.

“Director?” Tsumugi asked politely, leaning down. “Are you alright?” 

She raised a hand to wave him off. “Fine. I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” 

“You’re back!” 

They heard the telltale click of Madame Arisugawa’s cane on the floor as she got up from where she’d been resting, at a tiny coffee table with finger sandwiches piled high on a platter. 

“And you brought someone new with you,” she said pleasantly, stretching a withered hand towards Tsumugi. “Hello, young man. How are you?” 

“Very well, fair lady, how are you?” the angel replied, shaking it with two hands respectfully. He looked very strange in his all-white garb and an oversized, threadbare jersey handed down from Yuzo but they’d all decided it would be best to hide his wings from view. 

“Ooh, another charmer. Delightful! Keep your hands off the Director, I desperately am in need of a daughter-in-law. Competition would make me very upset, especially from such a pretty face.” 

“…Pardon?” 

Midori click-clacked her way to her son, sucking on her loose dentures. “Homare, sweetie, how was your camping trip?” 

He stuck a thumb into the air before clapping it over his mouth to stop a dry heave. 

“That’s wonderful! I hope you took pictures. Do any of you want sandwiches?” 

Taichi sat up, somehow immediately cured of his nausea. “S-Sandwiches?” 

“I prepped a plate when I heard you all were going to be back!” she said, pointing to the coffee table. “Have as many as you’d like.” 

“If Nanao seriously ate as much as he’d like, this country would go into another economic recession,” Banri hissed bitterly, easing himself to his feet and standing up. He gripped a bookcase for balance. “I’d be careful saying something like that.” 

Midori sucked a denture at him. “It’s _good_ for boys to eat a lot. Nothing warms an old lady’s heart like a big appetite. Look at you!” 

Banri yelped as Midori lunged up and grabbed his face in her palms, pinching his cheeks. 

“All bone!” she complained. “Such a shame there’s no baby fat. I hope your parents are feeding you right.” 

“I’m seventeen, you crazy hag, why would I still have baby fat?!” 

Midori’s eyes misted. “Sharp mouth on you. Just like my husband, bless his heart. Would you like an internship at the Athenaeum?" 

Banri jabbed a finger in Homare’s direction. “I hate your _entire_ family.” 

“Alas, Mister Settsu, your opinion somehow matters less to me than the absolute bare minimum I supply other plebeians,” Homare said wistfully, finally standing and giving his mother a very out-of-place, professional handshake. “Mother, I hope you haven’t been putting unnecessary pressure on your hip. The replacement surgery was only a few months ago.” 

“I’m not some glass figure, Homare, dear.” She suddenly pushed him towards the tram. “Off you go to the Coven, now. I already moved most of your things, send a fax if you need anything else.” 

“Wh—?! Mother!” 

“No dillydallying. This is a fun, good experience for you!” 

“This feels oddly as though you are kicking me out?” 

Midori lovingly caressed her son’s face. “Homare, my beautiful little boy. The apple of my eye. The reason I am so content to be on this planet still. This will always be your home and I will always let you return with open arms. However, yes, I _am_ kicking you out. It’s about time you ventured outside these walls and into the world. At the very least, this city." 

He looked stunned. “…I’m the head of this Bloodline.” 

“Yes, but your father left _me_ the house in the will. So, off you go!” She patted his cheek. “Don’t forget to write and visit, okay? And send as many pictures as possible.” 

Banri snorted. “Wow. This must be so humiliating for you.” 

Homare shot Banri a bitter look. 

Midori smacked the back of her son’s calf with her cane. “No picking fights with little boys!” 

“I’m not picking a fight with him!” 

“ _Little boy?!”_

“CAN YOU ALL SHUT UP!” Yuki roared before seizing the back of Tsuzuru’s hood and vomiting into it.

* * *

It’d only been a few days but walking through the doors of the Coven was like greeting an old friend who Izumi had missed dearly. 

Citron opened the door before she could even knock and he swept her into a brisk hug. 

“Welcome back,” he said brightly. 

He then pushed her away and ducked as Masumi flung a shoe at him. 

“Get _off_ of her,” he snapped. 

“Of course! Welcome back to you too, Masumi!” Citron craned his neck to get a good look at their group. “Oh. Angle?” 

“Angel,” Muku piped up. “H-Hi, Mister Citron." 

“Angel! What a surprise. Should I ask?” 

“I’ll tell you later,” Izumi promised him. “Can you just give him and Homare the two rooms left? Help them get settled?" 

“Of course. Abandon it to me, Director." He gestured within the dorm. “ _Please_ go help Omi. Your room.” 

“What? Is he okay?” 

Citron didn’t reply to her. Instead, he immediately grabbed bags and started helping the others move in comfortably. 

Izumi shook her head and slipped her shoes off to trudge inside the familiar halls. She opened the door to her room, almost weak in the knees with how much of a _relief_ it was just to be back. It was surprising how attached one could get to a building after only a few months and a handful of near death encounters. 

She yelled as someone swept her off her feet in a giant hug. 

“You’re back,” Omi whispered into her ear, holding her close. 

Izumi smacked the flat of her palm on his wide shoulder. “CAN’T. BREATHE. OMI. RIBS.” 

He dropped her immediately, panicked. “Sorry! Sorry. It was a bit overwhelming.” 

What could she do besides laugh and hug him back? Albeit, more gently. 

“I thought you said the separation anxiety got better with time.” 

“With time. I’m still getting there.” He pressed his cheek to the top of her head and let out a satisfied sigh. “It didn’t help my nerves knowing you were far away. You _are_ okay, right, Director?” 

“Still got all my bones.” 

She listened to the beating of his heart. Omi’s hug was warm and it felt so safe. After the last few days of hell, the respite was nice. And then she remembered the box. 

“Omi,” Izumi started carefully as she leaned away. 

He smiled at her like she was the only one who mattered. “Yes, Director?” 

Izumi stared at him. Then she shook her head. “Nothing. Ignore it." 

She’d approach the topic tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. Was there _that_ much of a rush when it was about Omi? 

For today, they would be the Coven. As always. 

“So why are you in my room?” 

“It, uh, it helps the nerves. I’m sorry, I should have asked. I promise I didn’t look through anything, I just get work done at your desk." 

Izumi snorted. 

Oh yeah. 

“Homare’s joining the Coven now.” 

“Is that why we had so many boxes sent over from the Arisugawa home?” 

“Yeah. Also, we have, uh, an angel now?” 

“…What?"

* * *

Banri smacked a hand onto Kazunari’s shoulder. “You know what we have to do.” 

The Caster nearly crumbled on the spot. “What? We—Aren’t you going to let me have today off? I mean, come on, we had a really wild day.” 

“We rested up enough at the camp. Back to work, dickhead.” 

“Ah…” 

Tsuzuru jolted when the two entered his lab without so much as a knock, and then continued to look confused when they sat at a table and started working again. 

“What are you two doing here?” he asked. 

“Trying to figure out how to get ghosts to eat,” Banri muttered. “Shut the fuck up if you’re not going to help.” 

“Ghosts don’t eat food.” 

Banri gave him the middle finger. 

Citron came in next. 

Tsuzuru tossed his hands into the air. “Fine. I see. No more privacy at all, right? Everyone can just come into my private lab whenever they want.” 

The Seer gave him a wink that didn’t feel apologetic in the least, and politely yanked Banri and Kazunari off of their stools. 

“Eek!” 

“Dude, what’s your problem? You wanna fight?" 

“Eat first,” he ordered. “Then you can go back to work.” 

“We don’t have fucking _time_ , Citron,” Banri snapped, trying to shrug his arm off. “Just get us some goddamned protein bars or some shit, can you let us—?” 

“No!” he said serenely. “Eating time. Let us put some meat on your inside sticks. Omi made muffins!” 

Tsuzuru clasped his hands together like he would in prayer. “I’m going to kiss him. I’m going to kiss him." 

The werewolf tossed both Tsuzuru and Kazunari warm muffins as soon as they entered the kitchen, but handed Banri a tray instead. 

“Can you give this to Misumi?” Omi asked. “Make sure he eats. He only got a little down yesterday before he felt nauseous.” 

“Fuck, can’t you make Miyoshi do this? I thought he was supposed to be Misumi’s nurse or whatever. I had Itaru duty.” 

Kazunari flinched violently like Banri had just proposed they cannibalize him. Citron went to go make himself another cup of tea. 

“Kazunari is excused from looking after Misumi for a small time,” the Seer said, not looking at them. “And Itaru is a demon, he heals much faster. Cut cut, Banri.” 

“…Chop chop, you fucking asshole.” 

“What was that? I could not understand you.” 

Banri sighed and trudged off with the tray. He knocked on Misumi’s door with his toe twice. 

“Yo.” 

“Come iiiiiin.” 

Banri nudged the doorknob a few times with his elbow and managed to get it open. He pushed his way inside. The Witch was sitting up in bed, bandage around his eye fresh and probably changed by Yuki earlier. 

“What’re you doing?” Banri asked. 

Misumi tilted his head to the side and smiled softly. He gestured to the little origami project on his lap. “I'm folding paper airplanes. Welcome back! It’s loud outside. Did the others come back too?" 

“Whatever. Get the exposition from someone else. Here’s dinner.” 

“Triangles?” 

“Porridge.” 

“Awwww.” 

Banri set the little tray on the bedside table. Misumi raised the prettily folded paper airplane to show Banri. 

“See?” he said, pointing to the edges. “It makes a nice triangle if you look at it from the top. Two triangles together to make a bigger triangle. And another triangle on the bottom to hold it by. Isn’t it great?” 

Banri scratched the back of his head. “Uh… sure.” 

“Do you wanna fold one with me?” 

“No.” 

“Please?” 

Banri clenched his jaw, shut his eyes, took in a deep breath, and then let it out. 

“Fine. I’ll fold one.” 

“Yaaaay!” 

He dragged Kazunari’s chair over and sat beside him. Misumi handed him a sheet of paper and picked up another for himself. 

“You fold it like this, and this—” 

“I know how to fold a fucking paper airplane, thanks.” 

“That’s a hundred yen for the swear jar, Banri.” 

Banri gritted his teeth so hard, he could almost feel his teeth cracking. 

“I love paper airplanes,” Misumi said softly, quickly making another. “I like the way they fly. Far, far away. To more fun places. It’s nice. Planes can go anywhere, and there can be as many of them as you want.” 

Banri finished his own, the edges crisp and perfect (of course). “Can I go now?” 

And then his brain exploded. 

Not literally, but it felt like it. 

His hands were shaking slightly as he replayed Misumi’s words in his head. “What. What did you just say?” 

“Hm? What?” 

“Just now. What did you just say.” 

“…What _did_ I say?” 

Banri’s facial muscles twitched. “About planes.” 

“You can make lots of them!" 

Banri seized Misumi’s face between his palms and pressed a sloppy kiss to his forehead. “You are the biggest _fucking_ genius, Misumi, you FUCKING genius! Fucking—BIGGEST brain around here, Jesus fucking Christ!” 

Misumi looked stunned at the kiss and touched his forehead. His grin turned goofier. “Thanks, Banri!” 

“No homo, man.” 

“Aw. Okay!" 

Banri sprinted out of the bedroom, almost slipping and falling in his socks on the polished hallway’s floor, and went for the kitchen. He slapped Kazunari on the back of his head as hard as he could, and the Caster nearly choked on his muffin. 

“BANRI, _STOP HITTING ME_. You’re REALLY starting to piss me off and I don’t get irritated easily!” 

“Banri, no violence at the breakfast table,” Tsuzuru chided. “We need his brain." 

Banri seized Kazunari by his shoulders and shook him vigorously. 

“PLANES!” Banri bellowed. 

Kazunari shoved him off and smoothed the wrinkles on his clothes. “ _What_ are you talking about?!” 

“MIYOSHI. _FUCKING PLANES_.” 

“Have you gone cray-cray?!" 

Omi cleared his throat to get their attention and perhaps calm them down. Neither of them paid him any mind. Citron patted the werewolf on his shoulder and bid him to return to their dinners. 

“Ignore them, Omi,” he advised. 

Banri pressed his palms together and stared Kazunari dead in his eyes. 

“Planes,” Banri repeated very slowly. 

Something clicked in the haze of overwork and burnout fogging Kazunari’s brain. His eyes glinted, manic and excited. 

“Oh my God. Planes.” 

“Planes.” 

“Planes! BANBAN, _PLANES!_ ” 

Banri kicked the table leg, rattling every dish that rested on it. “ _FUCKING PLANES_. LET’S GO. WE CRACKED THE CODE.” 

The Caster was already scrambling for the lab, shoving the other half of his muffin in his mouth and spilling crumbs everywhere. 

“MMF!” Kazunari repeated hysterically. 

“GO, GO, GO, GET THE DRAFTS!” 

Tsuzuru squinted at them as they disappeared. He went back to buttering his muffin, relishing at how warm the crumbly pastry was in his hand. 

“You have any idea what that was about?” he asked Citron. 

Citron sighed. “I no longer read those two. Too much work.” 

“Hm." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLANES. PLANES WERE THE ANSWER ALL ALONG.


	43. Itaru Doesn't Karma Farm on Reddit (Or So He Claims)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the chapter being late! I hope you enjoy

Tsuzuru poked his head into the lab to find the two in a work frenzy. Banri was glued to the whiteboard, looking back and forth from his papers to whatever nonsense he was scribbling down in dry erase marker. Kazunari’s eyes flickered to Banri’s scrawl and then back to the single bread roll on his workstation’s surface, shooting off emerald green Runes that sank into the soft, butter-shined surface. 

“Fucking planes,” Banri snarled, slapping the papers down to tie his hair up in a short ponytail. “God. _Fuck_. Planes.” 

“Planes,” Kazunari echoed. “I can’t believe we haven’t considered it but it just—it makes so much sense. This is a major breakthrough, Banban, I don’t think you understand how major this is. For, like, magic society as a whole."

Tsuzuru rubbed his face and exhaled slowly before shutting the door behind him. “Can someone explain to me why you guys are just saying ‘planes’ over and over again?” 

Banri whirled around and pressed the fingertips on his right hand together, suddenly reminiscent of an Italian grandfather. “It’s about the planes.” 

“…Was that a Parks and Rec reference?” 

“A what the fuck? I watch The Office.” 

“Of course you do. Explain.” He took a seat at the table and rested his chin on his hands. 

Banri pointed to the whiteboard. “Planes. That’s how ghosts are a part of this world but can’t touch anything. They’re in the world, they’re just existing within a different plane.” 

Tsuzuru stared. He scratched his head. Maybe it was time for him to go to sleep. “Like Jet Blue?” 

“You fucking dumb shitwad, fuck you.” 

“That was so aggressive for absolutely no reason.” 

Banri clenched his hands into fists. “I’m stressed out.” 

“Evidently.” 

“Planes. Planes of existence. Layers.” 

“Onions have layers,” Kazunari supplied in a murmur, obviously functioning on autopilot as he tried to get the Runes in a correct order that worked. 

Banri smacked his palm straight onto the surface of the whiteboard, taking care not to smudge any of his work. “Ghosts exist in the world, right? Right? They see everything we can see, but they can’t interact with any of it. Why the _fuck_ do you think that is?” 

“Because they’re ghosts, Banri,” Tsuzuru said, already tired. “That’s how it is.” 

He slammed the whiteboard again, growing vicious in his irritation. “Maybe I’d believe you if it weren’t for that spell.” 

Spell? “Which?” 

“ _Nullum affectum._ ” 

Tsuzuru didn’t particularly care for the specifics of Witch magic. He leaned back and raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s the spell that lets you pass through things. The thing that sent Sakuya down into the basement that one time and had the Director freak out.” Banri was waving his hands like a maniac. Maybe _he_ was the one who needed some more sleep. “How? How do you think that works? Even magic follows rules and some kind of logic if you care enough to dig into it. _Nullum affects_ is planar magic, it has to be. It sends you to this secondary layer where you _exist_ but you don’t touch anything because you’ve escaped the physical level.” 

“It makes sense for a few other reasons,” Kazunari muttered, eyes still trained hard on the bread roll. “It explains why wraiths are able manipulate stuff and hurt people. Don’t you think? When ghosts turn into wraiths, there _could_ be a kind of reaction that forces them back to our primary plane. Or… Or maybe, because bringing back the dead to this world is impossible, the only way they _can_ be on this plane is by being wraiths.” 

Banri stared at his whiteboard, eyes narrowed as he continued brainstorming. “All we have to do to get a ghost to eat then, is to find out how to access Hyodo’s specific plane. Send the bread roll to it. There’s no goddamn reason we shouldn’t be able to if he can go back and forth between his and ours by switching into an ugly ass monster. That means the… uh. Path? What the fuck ever, you get what I mean. That means the roadwork to his plane is there, we just need to figure out how to access it from our end." 

At this point, the word plane was starting to not sound like a real world. 

“That’s… certainly a theory,” Tsuzuru said very carefully. Complete batshit insanity, more like. The ramblings of mad men. But he felt like he’d be waking up with more than just a penis drawn on his face if he voiced those thoughts. "Where’s your evidence?” 

“Bitch, have you fuckin’ met me? I’m _me_. That’s all the evidence I need.” 

Wow, that was so many levels of incorrect, Tsuzuru didn’t even know where to begin. 

Kazunari took this moment to interject. “No, he’s right, Tsuzuroon, it checks out. I did the checking. I might not be as confident as Banban is about being _right_ , exactly, but there’s not a single law that contradicts what he’s saying. It’s completely within the realm of possibility and worth giving a shot.” 

“I… you’re kidding.” 

Kazunari gestured to a pile of papers. “Read through it.” 

And so, he did. He went through the mix of Kazunari’s panicked chicken scratch and Banri’s upsettingly perfect print, glanced at the red pen slashes on the discarded ideas, ignored the coffee spills, and tried to go in with less skepticism than he would have normally. 

Planes. What hogwash. Planar theory wasn’t something that had been touched by magicians before. What kind of maniac, after all, would look at the world around them and think there were layers? 

“It’s called Plato’s goddamn allegory of the cave, you fuckhead,” Banri drawled. 

“…I’m aware of the cave allegory. How does this apply?” 

“The people who saw shadows on the caves thought that the shadows were the real world. They thought _that_ was the only plane of existence that mattered. The guy that managed to escape the cave and came back to tell them about the outside world? They slaughtered him.” Banri paused. “That’s where the analogy ends, though. I think we both know I could take you in a fight.” 

“Muku could take me in a fight, Banri, I’m not a high bar to clear,” Tsuzuru muttered. He ran a hand through his hair as he felt his head begin to overheat. “You know what. I hate to say it. I really do. But I think you might be onto something.” 

“Of course I’m onto something, it’s the only thing that makes sense.” 

Tsuzuru frowned. “No. I think it’s the only hope you have left to cling onto that you’ll be able to get Juza to eat. That doesn’t mean you’re right.” 

Banri set his lips into something that felt almost sinister in its devotion. “Watch me.” 

“You’ve got some kind of God complex, Banri?” 

The blessed suddenly hesitated. “You’re christian, aren’t you?” 

“…Yes?” 

“I give a shit about very few things but like, I do respect everyone’s rights to their religious beliefs. You okay with hearing the blasphemy I’m about to spit out? I am unbelievably atheist. Like. To preface.” 

Tsuzuru grimaced and shot up a quick prayer just to feel better. “Might as well.” 

“ _Fuck_ God, dude. What a crock of bullshit,” Banri snarled bitterly. “There’s no such thing and you know what? If there isn’t really a God, then what’s to say I’m not the one who’s able to get the closest?” 

Oh, _dear_.

* * *

Izumi knocked on Tsumugi’s door. 

“Ah, come in!" 

She poked her head inside and shot him a smile. “Heya! Checking in. Are you settling in okay?” 

Tsumugi smiled at her. “I suppose I am getting acclimated well. Thank you for giving me an entire room, it’s very kind of you.” 

“No problem! I mean, I guess anything’s better than a box, right?” 

Tsumugi winced. “You are unfortunately correct. This does feel much better.” 

She looked around the barren room and sighed. The Coven’s budget was already so stretched. 

“Why don’t we hit up a few of the good thrift shops in the area this week to get you some more things?” she offered. 

Tsumugi laughed, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Director, you are so very kind to me. I feel absolutely undeserving of your altruism. I’ll be quite fine with the bare minimum, immortals don’t need much to function.” 

“Well, we at _least_ need to get you some clothes. And a hobby. Do you have a hobby?” 

The angel thought for a moment. “I enjoy gardening.” 

“Perfect! We need someone around here to tend to the flower beds. A lot of them are withered and the weeds are insane, I’m sure you’ll be able to do a great job with it.” 

He bowed his head to her. “I’d be honored to take on the role.” Then he seemed to pause, mulling over whether he’d say his next few words or not. “I do have to ask… what is that smell?” 

Izumi fought the urge to touch her hair and check how oily it was. “There’s a smell?” 

Tsumugi raised his nose into the air and gave a tentative sniff, before shuddering and rubbing his arms. “It’s… a little bit like rot, if I may be completely honest. I’m afraid it has me quite on edge.” 

Fuck. It was Tsuzuru’s dead body, wasn’t it. “Perfectly preserved with formaldehyde and magic” her ass. 

“I’ll get that checked out soon,” she promised him. “Come with me, let me give you a quick tour before I tuck in for the night.” 

“Thank you so much.” 

She opened the door wide to let him trail after her. Pointed down the hall. “Laundry room and the baths are that way. Let’s cover the kitchen and living room first. There’s not really a curfew but if you think you’re going to be loud, ask one of the Casters around to cast a quick silencer, okay?” 

“Understood. I don’t think that will be a concern, I like the peace and quiet.” 

“That’s great! The kitchen’s open whenever, we keep the fruit snacks—" 

Izumi froze. 

Itaru and Tsumugi stared at each other from across the kitchen. 

The demon slowly put down his mug of G-Fuel. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

Oh no. 

Flames erupted from the demon’s shoulders as he cocked his head to the side, upper lip curled in disgust to show off a glinting fang. “And what fucking cat dragged this WHORE into our house?” 

“Itaru!" 

Tsumugi’s eyes flickered from Itaru’s hot pink eyes up to his long, curling horns, then all the way down to the cloven hooves that poked out from the bottom of his sweatpants. His smile, although it didn’t disappear exactly, went strained. 

“Oh, goodness,” Tsumugi whispered. “I hadn’t been aware this Coven had such an infestation problem. It explains the smell." 

Itaru bristled. His pupils turned to little reptilian slits. “Watch your tongue, you chicken-winged cretin." 

Tsumugi rested a hand on Izumi’s shoulder, gently pulling her closer to him and, more importantly, away from Itaru. “Dearest Director, I get the sense that perhaps your kind nature has allowed this devil into your home but I feel the need to tell you the truth. Demons and cockroaches are alike in more ways than one. Difficult to kill and,” Tsumugi’s eyes narrowed, “utterly dreadful symptoms of filth.” 

The flames burst higher, consuming Itaru's tied up tuft of blonde bangs. Izumi yelped as every stove in the kitchen exploded into columns of bright blue flames despite not being turned on. 

“Pick a finger, you whore,” Itaru said, voice so dangerously soft. 

Tsumugi chuckled. “Is that a threat, demon? Why do you request such a silly thing?” 

“It’s about to be the only one I let you keep.” 

“I’m afraid I simply don’t understand the language of heathens. Could you repeat yourself? Or are you incapable of speaking unless its to seduce the ones around you into being as slovenly and wretched as you are yourself?" 

“Let’s see how you laugh once I tear those wings of yours off and use them as a screen cleaner. I’d been meaning to find a way to get those Redbull spray stains off, how convenient your timing is.” 

Hm. Izumi got a sense of what was going on here. She pushed Tsumugi’s hand off of her shoulder and reached for her purse, digging through it. It was probably somewhere in there. 

“Ah!” There it was. 

Izumi slammed her half-ruler onto the kitchen table. 

“Alright,” she said simply, interrupting the two. “I’ll play. Whip ‘em out, boys." 

The demon and the angel paused in their rancid, heated exchange to spare her a glance. 

“Pardon, Director?” Tsumugi asked politely. 

She feigned shock. “Oh, I’m sorry. This _wasn’t_ a dick measuring competition? Because the two of you are certainly acting like it is." 

He took a scandalized step back, jaw dropping. His cheekbones dusted pink. “D-Director!” 

“Maybe six inches is being a little generous. I’m hearing a lot of compensation.” She clicked her tongue. “Aren’t the two of you supposed to be immortals or something? Act your age." 

Itaru jabbed a claw in Tsumugi’s direction. “How dare you. How _dare_ you. The games? The spray bottle? Forget it. _This_ is the most insulting thing you’ve ever done to me. I should kill you for letting this whore come anywhere near me.” 

“I’d appreciate it if you would stop calling me that,” Tsumugi interrupted. “It seems very rude to call me such a thing when I am quite literally a servant to the spread of good will and grace.” 

“Oh, suck my fat nutsack, you motherfucker. I hope your spinal fluid leaks." 

Tsumugi sighed and looked away. “I wonder what I expected. It’s so typical of the demonkind.” 

Izumi rolled her eyes. 

“Sakuya!” she called. 

The Witch popped out of the training room and wiped the sweat off his brow. “Hi! Do you need me for something?” 

“Could you please show Itaru to his room?” 

Sakuya wilted. “Itaru… did you get in trouble again? We’ve talked about this.” 

“I am _not_ in trouble, it’s just that this son of—” 

Izumi raised her ruler. Itaru clamped his mouth shut and let out a frustrated grunt. 

“I’m sick of seeing your face already,” he drawled at last and gently pushed Sakuya down the hall. “Return to your training room, Witchling. This is not something you must be concerned about.” 

“A-Alright. If you say so. Just try to be nice, okay, Itaru?” 

A vein stuck out in Itaru’s forehead from the sheer pressure he was exuding. Izumi hadn’t even realized that Itaru _had_ veins. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his own shoulder and his vision bled red. Itaru lunged. 

“ITARU!” 

“I-Itaru!” 

“Keep your filthy, holier-than-thou talons off of me if you know what’s good for you,” he hissed, fingers locked around Tsumugi’s neck with enough pressure that would have torn clean through a normal person’s throat. “Don’t tell me your head is so big you’ve forgotten your place.” 

Tsumugi _smiled_ at him, eyes narrow. “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to associate so heavily with an innocent like Sakuya, is all. I don’t like how familiarly you pushed him right now.” 

“How dare you? How absolutely dare you, you mongrel, you know _nothing_ , you arrived this night—" 

Itaru realized that suddenly, two pairs of hands were on him. He let Omi and Citron haul him off and choked down the rising urge to kill the two of them for interfering. 

“That is ENOUGH!” Izumi bellowed, wedging herself in-between the two of them like she had some sort of death wish. “Itaru, control yourself, you’re scaring Sakuya!” 

His eyes flickered to the Witch standing behind her, the young boy wringing his hands anxiously and eyes wide. He curled his hands into fists but didn’t say anything. 

“Mister Tsumugi,” Sakuya said softly. “Itaru’s my friend. You don’t have to be worried if he pushes me around or anything like that, he doesn’t do it in a mean way. I know it’s easy to get the wrong idea because he’s a demon—Tenma thought the same thing you did when they first met. But Itaru’s a good person. There’s nothing to be scared of.” 

Well, that was a bit of a stretch, even Itaru could say that much, but he let the boy’s sweet words placate him. At least, a little. 

Izumi exhaled and crossed her arms. “Sakuya, go to your room.” 

“But—" 

“Now, please.” 

“…Okay.” With only one more fearful glance cast over his shoulder, Sakuya scurried to his bedroom and closed the door shut tight. 

“We are _not_ dealing with this tonight,” the Director directed to the two immortals hotly. “Jesus. You guys are worse than Banri and Juza when they first got here. Keep away from each other for now and we’ll address whatever rivalry you guys’ve got going on _tomorrow_. Omi, please make sure Itaru gets to his room.” 

“I can go myself without an escort, thank you,” he spat, shoving the werewolf off of him. “Let me say one more thing to this bastard.” 

“Itaru…" 

Oh, please. As _if_ he was asking for a Fourthborn’s damned permission. Itaru leaned in close, until his lips were almost touching the shell of Tsumugi’s ear. “Listen to me, angel, and listen carefully. Your magic may be on par with mine but I don’t care. If you so much as breathe around the Witchling and try to fill his head with your divine nonsense… or try to convince him to sign a contract with you? I will kill you. I will eradicate your presence until there’s not a hair left to regenerate back in heaven. Understand?” 

Tsumugi froze. He didn’t meet Itaru’s eyes but his shoulders shook with a repressed chuckle. “Oh. Even at the cost of your life?” 

“Even at the cost of wiping this entire island country clear off the human map. Mark my words.” 

Izumi forced herself between the two of them again, shoving a palm against each of their chests. 

“Or! You could not do that! There’s an idea!" 

Itaru leaned back and scratched his head. 

“Tch. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to get gold rank in Valorant. See you, scrub. Get fucked.” 

Itaru’s hooves clip-clopped as he trudged back to his room, slamming the door shut so hard it rattled on its hinges. Tsumugi pressed his fingertips together and in front of his mouth, curled into a pretty smile. 

“Interesting,” he crooned. “Director, you certainly have such a fun little school, don’t you?"

* * *

Kazunari draped his jacket over Banri’s back as a makeshift jacket, taking care not to wake the boy who had finally crashed, burned, and gone completely unconscious on top of his notes. 

“You should get some sleep too,” Tsuzuru whispered to him. “I know he’s been keeping you awake for a few days.” 

Kazunari shot the younger Caster a grateful smile. “…Yeah. He’ll probably get mad if he can’t find me easily in the morning so I’ll just crash on the couch. The Director won’t mind, will she?” 

Tsuzuru snorted. 

Then his face went serious. Not severely so, just in a way that made it obvious his next few words were genuine. “We’re out of rooms but… You know, I’m used to sharing a room with other people. Why don’t you just move into the Coven officially, Kazunari? You could be my roomie. I wouldn’t mind.” 

“…Ah.” He touched the brim of his hat nervously. “Well. Maybe. I’ll think about it. See you later, dude.” 

“See you.” 

He slipped out of the lab and let Tsuzuru continue getting familiar with his own set of experiments with the magithetical. He barely fought back a shriek when he found the ghost floating outside in the hall. 

“Settsu sleepin’?” 

He forced a smile. “Yeah! Banban’s just gone sleepy-bye. Let’s hope he stays that way for a few hours.” 

Juza looked angry. Or maybe that was just his regular face. “Sorry. I know he’s makin’ you work on it too. Didn’t think he’d force you like that but he’s a jackass.” 

“No way, my ghosty compadre!” Kazunari said with a cheer he did not feel down in his bones. “I mean, it’s nice that he’s doing it, you know? You must have been really special to him when you were alive.” 

“No.” 

“…Hm?” 

“All we did was fight. Kind of. He’d show up and punch me so I’d clobber him back.” Juza cracked a smile. This was the first time Kazunari had ever seen anything like it on the ghost’s face that was usually sullen, if at all visible. “Annoying asshat. Settsu never knows when to call it quits." 

“H-Huh. Well! That’s. That’s pretty interesting!” 

Juza shrugged and phased through the door. “Guess that’s just a part of who he is.” 

Kazunari stared at where the ghost had been just a moment prior and shook his head. What? Fighting? After all the rambling about getting Juza food to eat and eventually bringing him back to life, Kazunari had figured they’d been childhood best friends or something. Ah, well. It wouldn’t be the first time he found a relationship confusing. 

And on the topic of confusing relationships… 

He knocked twice on Sumi’s door. 

“Come in!” 

Kazunari walked inside and shut the door behind him. “Hey. I thought you’d be sleeping by now, to be honest.” 

Misumi shook his head. The bandage was clean, but not starchy and stiff like new ones were. It was a relief to know that the bleeding had completely stopped at last. The lights had been off but the moonlight that filtered through the window kissed everything silvery and visible. 

“I sleep a lot throughout the day so… I’m awake now. And I don’t mind! I like how the night sky looks.” Sumi’s smile was so warm and inviting as he reached out a hand. “I’m glad you’re here. Banri gave me dinner but I missed you. Why… didn’t you bring it? Were you busy?” 

“Kind of. I wanted a bit of time to myself.” 

“Oh.” 

Tense. 

Kazunari slipped his hat off and hung it on the doorknob before drawing his stool closer to Misumi’s bedside. And when he didn’t like the position he was in, he got up and sat on the edge of Sumi’s mattress instead, taking care not to sit on his leg. 

“Can we talk, Sumi?” he asked quietly. 

“Yeah! Yeah! I like talking to Kazu.” 

He took in a slow breath to fill his lungs all the way. When he felt like they’d pop and holding it in started to hurt, he slowly exhaled. With it, came the slow confession. 

“I think we need to spend some time away from each other.” 

There was no sound. He didn’t want to see what kind of face Sumi was making. 

“W… Why?” 

It hurt. It hurt. He sounded so hurt. 

“What did… I do?” Misumi asked, voice cracking in the middle. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Kazu.” 

The inside of Kazunari’s throat was scratchy and rough like sandpaper. “You don’t have to apologize, Sumi. It’s—you didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve never, ever done anything wrong, okay?” 

“But… then why are you saying you don’t want to talk to me anymore?” Sumi’s lips were quivering until he bit down harshly on them, hard enough to draw blood almost. “Tell me what I can do to fix it. I don’t… I don’t wanna lose you.” 

Kazunari put his hand over Misumi’s shaking one. “Stop it. Stop. It’s nothing you did, Sumi. It’s…” 

What _was_ it, exactly? 

_“You’re my best friend. So… if you end up killing me, that’s not too bad.”_

_“It’s okay if you hurt me. Because you’re my best friend.”_

_“As long as you’re here when I wake up, that’s all I care about.”_

_“It’s okay if it’s you.”_

Right. That was it. 

“You’re really incredible, Sumi,” Kazunari whispered. “You’re probably one of the most powerful magicians in this entire city. You’re funny, and athletic, and you have this heart of gold. You’re really special and I’m grateful that I got to meet you. You’re definitely one of the best people that I’ve ever met.” 

_And so much more than what a shit person like I deserve,_ was the unspoken finish. 

“You shouldn’t let me hurt you. You shouldn’t—You shouldn’t let anyone hurt you. And I am, I cannot stress this enough, the _last_ person you should give that right.” Kazunari licked his chapped lips. “I wish I could be. I wish I was. But I’m not. Not—yet, anyways, and it’s going to take me a long time to get there.” 

“Kazu?” Sumi asked. 

“Yeah. I am one selfish son of a gun, Sumi. With like, a ton of issues I gotta iron out. And… thank you. Yeah. Thank you.” 

Sumi stared at him. 

Kazunari laughed. “Thanks. I mean it. I think… I dunno. Sorry. My head’s going all over the place. I think you’re probably the only person that could have made me think about this kind of stuff seriously. You know—confront it. I know I seem like a real easy-going guy but, Jesus, I’d swallow my own fist than have to confront anything ever usually. But I can’t ignore my—the bad stuff going on anymore since I’m not the only one at stake.” 

Sumi frowned. “Oh.” 

“I’m sorry, Sumi.” 

He’d lied to the Witch, hadn’t he? Lied like a conman. 

He should have figured. Going around like some kind of guy people could rely on and entrust their secrets, their lives to. And of course, fate was the mean bitch that made it so that the one person who did entrust him with his life was the one person Kazunari couldn’t risk letting get hurt. 

“Wow.” Sumi smiled, aching in the way his lips turned upwards. “I know you’re the one here with two eyes, Kazu, but boy. You’re really blind.” 

“…Hah?" 

He reached out and took Kazunari around his face, cradling his cheeks so tenderly in his palms. The pads of Misumi’s thumbs traced the outline of Kazunari’s cheekbones. The Witch’s eye looked so sad yet there were no tears. Yet. 

“I wish you saw what I saw in you, Kazu,” Misumi said, voice quavering and tight. There was a crinkle in his brow Kazunari wished so desperately he could smooth away. Misumi held his face tighter. “It’s so. Frustrating. And it makes me confused why you can’t see how good you already are.” 

“I’m not—" 

“ _Yes_ , you are.” Misumi let out a watery giggle. “You don’t even know. You don’t even have a _clue_. Dummy. Duuuuuummy. You’re a dummy, Kazu. Just—such a big dummy.” 

Kazunari was speechless. 

The Witch came closer until he pressed their foreheads together. Neither spoke but could hear each other breathe. 

Misumi sniffed and cracked the smallest smile. "There’s so much going through your head, it’s hard for me to keep up sometimes. I’m not as smart as you are. From the way you talk, I know you’re going through a million thoughts every second and I think that that must be hard. But can you use that big brain of yours to know what my simple one has in it?” 

“You don’t have a simple brain,” he replied immediately. “Who told you that? Who—?" 

“Shhhhh, Kazu. Shh. Just listen to me and stop _thinking_ so much.” 

He shut up. 

“When we met in Sakyo’s apartment for the first time, you tried to make me laugh. And… you know, I already told you. No one ever did that for me before. You scared me at first—everyone kind of scared me back then. But you kept going for two whole hours and I finally, finally did and I still remember how your smile looked when you heard it. 

“Maybe it was normal for you. It might not have been as important to you. I dunno. You’ve probably had a million people laugh at your jokes, way easier than I did. And… And maybe the only reason you tried to make me feel better was because I was the only other person there.” Misumi’s sole amber eye shone fondly with the memory in their bittersweet moment alone. “I don’t care. It made me so happy. And then you asked me if I wanted to hang out when we got released. So we did.” 

Kazunari still remembered that summer. Hanging out with the skinny, messy-haired, quiet and shy boy without a last name and very, very obviously without a home no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Obvious in the way he wolfed down his half of Kazunari’s packed lunch, in the way he only had one outfit that was heavy with grime. Meeting every other day, sometimes once every three or four. Doing nothing like shopping or going to the movies, since Kazunari figured the homeless boy wouldn’t have money to spare. But they looked at the fireworks from a hill once when there’d been a festival. They’d walked through a garden once. He’d taken Sumi to a no-fee-for-entrance museum once. 

What a wonderful summer it’d been. 

And then when fall came around, Sumi had disappeared. 

“I should have done more,” Kazunari muttered, more to himself than to the other boy. “I should have… I don’t know. I should have let you come back to my dad’s apartment with me or something. I just—invited you to hang out sometimes. That wasn’t much.” 

“ _It was everything_.” 

Kazunari shivered at those words. At the unflinching resoluteness with which Misumi delivered them. 

“I thought, for the first time back then,” Misumi murmured, blinking and letting a tear trickle down before he wiped it away with the back of his hand, “that laughing was so nice. And feeling happy was so nice. And having a friend was so nice. And it was the first time I really thought I understood why people keep on living.” 

Kazunari let out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t even look for you that hard when you left. I just knew I didn’t see you around the city anymore and figured you were gone. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I… got a job with that traveling circus when they started their circuit again. And then… I was too nervous to find you. It’s my fault too." 

They laced their fingers together and didn’t say anything for a beautiful, beautiful moment that couldn’t have lasted long enough even if it’d been for ten years. 

Misumi finally nodded. 

“Okay, Kazu. It’s okay. You can take your time with figuring it all out.” Misumi squeezed his hand and forced a smile onto his face, even with the pain clear in his eye. “I’ll wait for you as long as you need. Just make sure you try hard to come back to me, okay? You’re still my best friend.” 

Kazunari clenched his teeth and yelled at himself to stop aching. He forbid crying and forcing Sumi to bear the burden of comforting him. 

“I’ll work really hard,” he swore. 

Misumi laughed, too jovial for the situation they were in. 

“Of course you will, Kazu!” Sumi said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You always work so hard at everything you do. That’s one of the things I love most about you.” 

He swallowed dryly. And then forced himself to draw his hand away, lest he give in and take it all back and just let himself be happy again with Sumi instead of having to face his problems. But… no. That would just destroy the purpose he had going into this in the first place. 

“I’ll go,” Kazunari said, getting to his feet. “Try to get some more sleep.” 

“Goodnight, Kazu,” Sumi said as he stared at his blanket-covered lap. “I hope you have a nice dream.” 

He shut the door and nearly collapsed onto the hallway’s floor. Kazunari couldn’t remember the last time his knees felt so weak. 

“Kazunari?” 

He winced and looked up. Muku stood in the hall, eyes still crusted with sleep and holding a glass of strawberry milk. He’d obviously woken up with a craving for a midnight sweet. 

“Hey, Mukkun,” he said. “I’m gonna crash on the couch soon. G’night." 

“Oh _no_ ,” Muku whispered. Suddenly, the middle schooler was seizing Kazunari’s wrist and dragging him into his bedroom. “Wait here. Oh gosh, what did you do?” 

“H-Huh?” 

Kazunari was pushed backwards into Muku’s large beanbag chair, where his butt sank into the cushion. Muku began frantically going through his shelves, pushing carefully sorted manga titles this way and that until he finally found what he’d been searching for. A tiny box of emergency animal-print bandaids. 

He removed one, the bandaid had little kitten doodles on it, and turned back to Kazunari with palpable concern in his eyes. 

“Where is it?” Muku asked. 

“Where… what?” 

It was definitely the sleep deprivation muddling his train of thought. He couldn’t follow a thing Muku was saying. 

“You’re hurt!” the Seer exclaimed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Oh, gosh, do you need me to call Yuki? Is a bandaid not enough? What _happened_ to you? Splinter? Is it a paper cut? Oh, I hate paper cuts so much, they freak me out." 

“Ah…” 

Kazunari stared up at the boy who was already shaking in his nervousness, nearly ripping the bandaid he held in half. 

Muku blinked away the sleep and then looked a bit more carefully. Understanding cleared his clouded eyes and suddenly the boy turned somber. Still and mourning with a weight beyond his years. 

“Oh,” Muku said. 

In any other situation, perhaps Kazunari would have been mortified. Mortified that he’d let someone see him like this. But it was so late, he was so tired, and he couldn’t will the wall up to mislead the young boy’s magic. 

“Yeah…” Kazunari chuckled emptily. “Not… something you can fix with a bandaid. But thank you for the thought." 

Muku kept staring at him. And then, Kazunari couldn’t hold it in anymore. With a shuddering exhale, then a hiccuping inhale, and then a loud keening exhale once again, he began crying into his hands inside of the Seer’s bedroom. Bawling and sobbing, all while Muku watched, watched with sad eyes as Kazunari’s soul and body finally merged into one singular presentation of surrendered misery.

* * *

Tsuzuru stretched and groaned as his back let out a few satisfactory crunches. There was nothing quite like twisting one’s spine after several hours of hunching over a desk. The hallway had been relatively quiet the entire day. Perhaps it was time he finally ventured out to get something to eat. 

He stood up and slammed his hand on the table when his vision spotted. Yeah, he definitely needed to grab a bite, his blood sugar was lower than he’d thought it was. 

Tsuzuru walked into the kitchen, finding it and the adjoined living room oddly bare. The only two people there were Taichi and Citron. The former, staring at a wall like he was trying to break it down through sheer will. The latter, sipping pleasantly at a cup of tea while letting out soft huffs of laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” Tsuzuru asked, intrigued. 

Citron shook his head. “Taichi has very amusing thoughts.” 

Tsuzuru glanced at the changeling who did, indeed, seem to be thinking very deeply, nibbling on his thumbnail with his eyes narrowed. “Does he? What’s he thinking of?” 

“Ask him.” 

Alright, he’d bite. He could do with a funny thought. 

“Hey, Taichi,” Tsuzuru said, wincing at his own miserable failure at attempting to sound casual. 

The boy jerked his head up like he’d been startled. “Oh. Hey.” 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Tsuzuru asked. 

Taichi’s face went red. 

“It’s nothing,” he said immediately. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’m curious." 

“Seriously, I wasn’t thinking about anything.” 

Masumi chose this moment to shuffle inside, headphones on. The Hunter dug through the bowl of fruits Omi kept on the table, keeping an eye open for an apple. Tsuzuru just kept looking at Taichi, hoping he’d crack. It took all of five seconds. Taichi leaned back on the couch, face turning pensive once more. 

“Alright. But don’t make fun of me,” he began slowly. "I was walking through the town early this morning to grab some detergent for the Director and I passed a Dunkin’ Donuts. They had a sign at the front of their store that confused me a little. I’m still thinking about it." 

A Dunkin’ Donuts ad? “Confusing…?" 

“Yeah. It was like… ‘On the run? Get a coffee to go!’” 

Tsuzuru’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t following. 

Taichi continued, unperturbed by the silence. “I was just thinking, the ad probably was meant for people who are super busy, right? Like, hey, if you’re running really fast to make it to an appointment or whatever, it’s totally fine. Just come inside the Dunkin’ Donuts and we’ll make your coffee for you fast. They’re, like, marketing their quick business and convenience, right?" 

“Taichi…” Tsuzuru stopped himself. “Mhm. Yeah. Continue.” 

“But then I was thinking, they worded it weird. On the run. It kind of sounds like they’re marketing to criminals who are trying to hide from the law and escape. And I just can’t help but wonder what a Dunkin’ Donuts filled with convicts would look like. I’m wondering if they’re trying to put a monopoly on the running-from-the-cops demographic. And _now_ , I’m wondering if that’s even a big enough group of people to bother marketing towards.” 

Tsuzuru pressed his lips together. 

“Huh,” he offered at last. 

Taichi’s eyes glazed over as he got lost in his thoughts. “I mean, it might be a smart choice. Imagine someone just robbed a bank and they have a million dollars, but they’re running so they don’t get caught. Maybe they’re going to take a plane out of the country and lay low abroad. That’s what I’d do if I robbed a bank, at least. But if that Dunkin’ Donuts ad makes them stop and spend a part of their newfound money, then that means the ad _worked_.” 

Masumi suddenly slipped his headphones off. “Stop it.” 

Oh, he wasn’t the only— 

“You’re making too much sense.” 

A swing and a miss. 

Taichi threw his hands into the air. “Aren’t I? I feel like I’ve cracked some kind of code." 

Somehow, it seemed oddly in character for Masumi to be on the same strange, strange wavelength. Tsuzuru glanced at Citron with a raised eyebrow. The Seer just continued hiding his smile behind his palm. 

“He has been thinking about this all morning,” Citron said. 

“I have been thinking about this _all. Morning_ ,” Taichi repeated, waving his hands to stress just how much time he’d devoted to ruminating over this particular concept. 

Tsuzuru looked at the changeling, then to the Seer (who looked like he was watching his favorite show on television), and then rubbed his forehead with two fingers. This, like so many other things in the Coven, felt a little out of his grasp. And thus, Tsuzuru went to the kitchen, grabbed a can of condensed milk, and disappeared to his lab where the scribbled sheets of Runes were also complicated but much, much easier to understand.

* * *

Sakuya had had some _bad_ breakfasts before in his life. 

He’d had breakfasts where his Aunt had thrown a fit and shattered his plate. He’d had breakfasts where cousins had snatched it away from him before he could have a bite. He’d had breakfasts where the only option on the menu were knuckle sandwiches from meaner, older foster children in the system. 

Somehow? This beat all of that in terms of sheer awkwardness. 

“Director, it’s so sweet of you to allow everyone to sit at the table,” Tsumugi said, the very picture of tranquility. “Even those of us who perhaps shouldn’t be allowed to break bread with children, granted he is a being that feeds on sin and corruption. But no matter. Shall we join hands in grace?" 

Itaru pounded the table with his fist. “Stop talking. Stop talking. Eat my fucking ass, Jesus motherfucking Christ, you are the _worst._ You are such a piece of shit. I hate you.” 

Sakuya sighed softly down towards his pancakes. 

Tsumugi’s facial muscles twitched. “Oh? And the infidel speaks. It’s quite alright, Itaru, you do not have to join us in prayer." 

“You know what? Why stop at eating my ass. You’ve got an open invite to gargle my goddamned balls too." 

“I’m delighted you’re willing to carve so much time in your schedule for me. Would this be before or after you lead someone down the path of corruption and eternal damnation?” 

“I’ll do you one better, we can do both of those time slots.” 

“Truly _saintly_ of you, demon." 

“Enough!” Izumi yelled, finally fed up with the fighting. “Itaru, don’t think I’m not keeping track. That swear jar better have enough money to pay for the entirety of next month’s groceries by tonight, do you hear me?" 

The air was tense. Taichi slowly reached for another piece of bacon like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. 

Tsumugi sighed. “I apologize. This isn’t proper conduct in front of an audience. Especially children. You’re right." 

“Breakfast used to be fun in this Coven without you,” Itaru muttered. 

Then, it was the brownie that slammed his cutlery down on the table, rattling the dishes in his ire. 

“Oh, boo _hoo_ , Itaru, leave the angst for your karma farming on Reddit,” Yuki snapped. “Can you _please_ shut it and let the rest of us eat without feeling like we’re watching our parents go through the pre-divorce phase? Grow up.” 

Itaru’s eyes widened and he looked _strangely_ besmirched by the foot-tall middle schooler. 

Kazunari coughed into his fist. “Yo. Speaking as a child of divorce? The pre-divorce phase breakfasts were _genuinely_ easier to get through than this. Like. My mom and dad were on different paths but at least neither of them were a magical creature so powerful, their existence was illegal.” 

Homare didn’t seem to be reading the room. He handed his plate to Omi. “Would you mind if I could have some more carrots?" 

“I don’t _karma farm_ ,” Itaru said at last, voice small. “I get my upvotes organically.” 

Everyone continued eating silently. 

Then, Masumi broke the lull. 

“What’s your karma total,” the boy asked flatly. 

“…Forty-three point five thousand.” 

Masumi suddenly smiled at his curry. “Heh.” 

“What.” 

“I have ninety-seven thousand.” 

Itaru’s jaw clenched. 

Banri slipped his phone out of his pocket. “I have over a hundred thousand.” 

The demon got up. “I’m done. No one bother me. I’m going to my room.” 

“What is a Reddit,” Tsumugi whispered to Tsuzuru. 

“Don’t.” 

Sakuya got up and scurried after Itaru. “I’ll go try to talk to him…"

* * *

Sakuya sat on the edge of Itaru’s bed as the demon angrily clicked his mouse and muttered all sorts of vulgar phrases under his breath. He frowned and tried to figure out what exactly he wanted to say. 

“I think,” the Witch began, “we’re all just a little surprised. You don’t really get mad like that. Tsumugi is new here and he’s been through kind of a hard time. You know… several years in a box and everything. Can’t you be a little nice to him, Itaru?” 

Itaru slammed his hands on his keyboard, nearly splitting it into two halves. A button popped off. Sakuya flinched at the action and Itaru, at least, looked sorry enough for startling the Witch that he forced some tension to leave his shoulders. 

“That’s because none of you know what angels are like,” he seethed. “Of course you don’t. The human world is filled with so much senseless, baseless rhetoric that praises angels. Glorifies them. It’s pathetic when in truth, they are the worst kind of twisted and self-righteous.” 

“But… Tsumugi's been okay so far, Itaru. He could be different.” 

“Angels _cannot_ be different because that isn’t the purpose for which they’ve been created, Witchling. Just as how I am created with a purpose, so was that winged bastard. And let me tell you immediately that his meaning for existence is a malicious one.” 

Sakuya’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” 

Itaru suddenly turned and stared right into Sakuya’s eyes, little pink fires burning where he should have had pupils. It was eery, to put it lightly. 

“Tell me. If your Director came struggling through the door with a dead body and asked you to help her bury it, what would you do?” 

“ _What?_ ” he cried in alarm. 

“Answer honestly. I know it already but do you?” 

Sakuya shivered. He rubbed his arms to try to get rid of the gooseflesh but it refused to sink back in. “I guess… I guess…” His eyes flickered to the door. “Do you promise not to tell?” 

Itaru snorted. 

He lowered his voice to just barely above a whisper. “I’d help her hide it. I guess. It’s the Director. She must have had a reason.” 

“Why?” 

“Wh—?” 

Itaru clicked his tongue. “Why would you commit a sin you know is wrong, Witchling. What is it within you that makes you want to forego every moral you have?” 

Sakuya swallowed. “Because… It’s the Director. You know? It’s _her_. She—I…” Sakuya’s chin wrinkled as he grew frustrated trying to figure out what was going through his own head. Frustrated trying to explain it. “Maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I wouldn’t help her.” 

“No, you would. I know this and so do you. The reason is because you value the Director and she, as a person, as an entity with a soul, has become important to you. More important than the desire to run to the authorities and turn her in so she faces penance.” Itaru exited the game and leaned back in his gaming chair. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. The reason why humans are different from everything else in this world, the thing that sets you apart from animals, is your ability to contradict. You break promises and you lie and you commit sins even though you know doing so makes you a bad person. You have a penchant for evil borne from love. 

“I as a demon feed on that dissonance. We hellspawn encourage that confusing and senseless, emotion-driven tempest within your heart to come to the outside world and wreck its havoc. Angels do the opposite but as you’ve probably figured by this point, not in any way that’s good.” 

“I don’t understand,” Sakuya confessed. “What do you mean angels do the opposite?” 

“They seek not to develop the tempest but destroy it.” Itaru let out a scathing, harsh laugh. “They are unforgiving and cruel and void of love. So am I but at least I understand it from a detached perspective. Devils have to understand it, that clash between love and evil is why we even exist. Angels? They reside by a strict, rigid set of laws. There are no excuses for an angel. There is no case-by-case basis.” 

“Isn’t… Isn’t that a good thing?” Sakuya asked. 

“Is it?” Itaru glared at something on the ceiling only he could see. “Let’s say a man walks into the Coven, Witchling. He has a gun in hand and says he is out to put a bullet clear through the Director’s skull the moment he sees her. He spots you in the living room first and asks you where she is. What do you tell him?” 

Sakuya gaped. He was steadily growing more and more uncomfortable with each hypothetical that Itaru was presenting to him. 

“I would try to buy time. I guess. A-And, uh, I’d try to let the Director know so she could get away.” 

“So you would lie?” 

“Yes?” 

Itaru’s eyes flashed. “Evil.” 

“ _What?_ ” 

“That is a sin. You lied.” 

“Wh—but that’s not fair! It’s not evil, I’m saving the Director’s life!” 

“So? You lied. The man with the gun who intends to kill her might certainly be committing a sin but why must _you_?” 

“That’s _not_ a sin, that’s me helping the Director,” Sakuya blustered hotly. “Not… Not all sins are equal." 

Itaru sneered. “Alright. Let’s say Masumi is ill and set to die in two days' time. The only way to cure him is to get a special bottle of medicine, yet it costs a million dollars. The pharmacy that sells the medicine that could save his life is not using the medicine for anybody else but they refuse to give it to you. What do you do?” 

“…S-Steal it. If we can’t make the money." 

Sakuya already knew what was going to come out of the devil’s mouth. “Evil.” 

“No it’s not, Itaru. Stop it.” 

The demon raised his palms. “I have not said anything. I am simply telling you how an angel thinks.” 

The young Witch’s eyes dropped to his lap. He chewed on his lower lip as he tried to wrap his head around all of this. 

“But Tsumugi is entitled to his own opinion,” Sakuya whispered at last, knees drawing closer as he curled into a tight ball. “I guess… It’s okay even if he’s a little strict when it comes to that stuff, right? He can think those things are evil. That’s fine.” 

“Oh?” Itaru chuckled darkly. “If only that were it. If only it stopped at opinions.” 

A chill ran up the length of Sakuya’s spine. 

“Stay away from that angel. And if you care about the people in the Coven, keep them away from him as well. Angels may not know the heart but they certainly know the brain. He will say _whatever_ it takes, whatever sweet, honey-dripping words he needs to speak, in order to keep that perfect, blasted, unsustainable purity. 

“A part of growing up and being an independent human is understanding the world is ugly and choosing what it is you wish to protect. Whether it is yourself, or other people, or a concept. The thought that there is some ultimate perfection, an infallible standard of good, is a childish idealism one abandons eventually for reality. What one _must_ abandon.” 

“What happens if someone doesn't?” Sakuya asked, dread filling his insides at the coming answer. 

“Then they become a poisonous flame that destroys everything close to them, before burning out themselves.”

* * *

What would you do to protect the things you care about? 

How much evil would you be willing to do? 

How much would you be willing to sacrifice? 

Sakuya stood in the doorway of the living room, watching as Citron twirled Izumi around in his arms to the music from the radio. 

“ _Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars…_ ” 

“Watch your feet, Director,” Citron teased as he dipped her low. 

Izumi let out a screech as her back bent a little too far and the tips of her long hair trailed along the carpet. 

“Citron, my spine! My spine!” 

“Oh, you are fine,” he scolded not unkindly before pulling her back up and spinning her again. 

“I’m going to kill you!” 

He laughed. 

“ _Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars…_ ” 

She spotted Sakuya standing there and blinked, before grinning wide bordering onto dopey. 

“Hey, kiddo!” she said, brushing Citron’s hand off of her waist. She lunged forward and grabbed him by his hand, tugging him forth to join them in their impromptu little dance party. “How flexible are you feeling?” 

He blinked. “Like. Like right now?” 

“Yeah!” 

He usually stretched first thing after waking up. “Pretty flexible, I think.” 

“ _Fantastic_.” 

She dipped him low just like Citron had done for her a moment prior. Sakuya shrieked as he bent backwards, trying not to topple and become deadweight. His head nearly grazed the floor before she helped him back to his feet properly. 

Citron elbowed her. “That is how you are supposed to do it, Director. You are all stiff like a hoard.” 

“Board. Board, Citron. And that’s because Sakuya’s young and I am a withered hag.” 

“You are twenty-four, madam.” 

Izumi groaned. “Don’t remind me.” 

Citron snorted but the blue in his eyes shone like crystals as he took her hands in his and continued their silly waltz. Sakuya sat down on the couch and drew his knees to his chest, continuing to watch them. Waving the Director off when she asked him to dance with them. He wanted to spend the moment just relishing what they had in this ragamuffin home of theirs. 

Anything, he realized suddenly. 

He looked down at his palm and brought forth the same ball of golden fire he had all those months ago. Had it only been two? That seemed so ridiculous to him, they’d gone through so much. He’d been given so much. 

Sakuya focused and let the fire turn stretched like a glowing, flickering ribbon he let twirl around his fingers, looping and dancing so prettily. Just like his two ridiculous, beloved, kind teachers in front of him. 

Anything. 

He’d do anything to protect and keep the Coven. 

“Director,” Sakuya said suddenly. 

She tore herself away from Citron and collapsed by Sakuya’s side, already spent. “What’s up?” 

“I’m not really scared anymore.” 

“…Scared?” 

“Of the quest.” 

She shuddered. “Good _lord_. It _is_ coming up in a couple of weeks, isn’t it? That is freaky to think about.” 

Sakuya giggled and shook his head, leaning to rest his head comfortably on her shoulder. “Yeah. It’s alright, though. I don’t know why but I feel like it’s going to work out.” 

No, it wasn’t that he felt like it would. It was that he knew it would. Or, it was the only possible outcome he would ever be willing to accept. He thought back to the dryad from Yuzo’s forest, the one that had belonged to such a big and tall tree. The one that let the cuckoo sleep in her hair. 

Everyone was kind of like a tree. Sakuya wondered if being tossed around from relative to relative, never knowing if he’d be able to stay, had kept him from being able to grow. He looked around their sun kissed living room, so bright and gold from the light that streamed through the sliding glass door. 

“ _Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore…_ ” 

This was his home now. This was where he’d chosen to settle his roots. He couldn’t even imagine there being someplace better. He closed his eyes as the Director raised her hand and began to comb through his hair with her fingers, fingernails scratching at his scalp in a comforting way. 

“You’re going to be okay, kid,” she said, as sure and unfaltering like she was defending the blue sky. 

“I know,” Sakuya whispered. 

There was so much love here. And if Itaru was right, and honestly, he probably was, the demon had a knack for getting things on the nose, love was what gave people the power to do amazing things. Good? Bad? The jury was still out for that verdict in particular. But amazing? Always. If that was the case, then Sakuya felt for the first time like he was capable of pulling miracles out of thin air. 

Anything. 

He would do anything to keep his home. 

Suddenly Citron smacked his hands over his mouth to hide a laugh. 

“What is it?” Izumi asked him. 

“One moment.” Citron disappeared. 

Sakuya hummed. “What do you think it is?” 

“I don’t know, kiddo. Citron just kind of does what he wants to do and I let him. He’s pretty good when left to his own devices, even if he does get mysterious to the point where its almost theatrical.” 

He had to laugh. 

“ _What_ , Citron?” Tsuzuru asked as the Seer led him into the living room. “…Hi, Director. Sakuya.” 

“One moment,” the Seer said, staring down the hallway. 

The clock on the wall ticked. 

Suddenly, Taichi’s door open and the boy scurried out, eyes wide. 

“I have a question,” he announced to the room. 

Tsuzuru held up a finger. “Hold on.” He reached into his pocket and took out a small tube of Tums. He popped one into his mouth and gestured for Taichi to continue. 

Taichi looked so very confused. “I saw the weather report today and it said that we’re going to be expecting about twenty-percent humidity.” 

Izumi stared. “…Uh huh. Yeah?” 

“Wouldn’t a hundred percent humidity be the ocean?” Taichi asked desperately. 

Tsuzuru blinked. His eyebrows rose. Sakuya choked a little and then had to hide his laugh, not wanting to offend the changeling. 

“No,” Tsuzuru said, very simple and matter-of-fact. “Not in the slightest. A hundred percent humidity just means sweat can’t evaporate. It means the air is completely saturated with vapor.” 

Taichi bit his thumb, brows scrunched tightly together. “But. But a hundred percent humidity is _water_.” 

“What? No it’s not. _What?_ ” 

Citron wiped a tear from his eye. “I cannot believe it is about to get better.” 

Tenma walked into the kitchen with his Hydroflask, ready to refill it with ice and barley tea from the fridge. 

“Ten!” Taichi called. “Hey, hey. You know a hundred percent humidity? Like, for the weather?” 

The Hunter paused in his quest for a beverage and mulled this over. “…Is a hundred percent humidity possible? Wouldn’t that just be the ocean?” 

“Oh my god,” Izumi said softly as Tsuzuru’s jaw dropped even further. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Taichi cried. “It’s a hundred percent water!” 

Tsuzuru quickly consumed another Tum. “I’m resigning. I’m resigning. I can’t do this.” 

Citron held up his hand. “Please halt for it.” 

“I’ve just been thinking about this for a while now,” Taichi said to the room at large, furiously making his case as though he’d be ready to die on this hill. “A hundred percent. That means _whole_. And what is humidity? Water vapor. What’s whole water vapor? _Water_. A hundred percent humidity is water.” 

Tsuzuru downed the rest of the Tums in his tube. 

“That’s so much antacid,” Izumi whispered. 

“When do you know it’s air and when it’s water?” Taichi asked them. 

Tenma let out a short, “hm.” Then, said, “When you start drowning, I guess.” 

Tsuzuru looked around the room. “Where am I. This can’t be real. I refuse to believe that this conversation is happening. You really dragged me out of the room so I could see a full circus for free, huh, Citron.” 

“I just knew you would make this experience so much funnier, Tsuzuru,” the Seer said sweetly. 

“Wouldn’t a hundred percent vapor just be _water?_ ” Taichi groaned. 

“I am in so much pain, Citron. And you let this happen. You participated in my agony. You directly played a hand in making me suffer like this.” 

Izumi got up from the couch and put her hands on Taichi’s shoulders, concern evident in the lines of her face. “Taichi… Aren’t you in year two of high school? How have you been doing in your chemistry classes?” 

“Not well, but that’s not the point.” 

Taichi stared at the tea swirling inside of his water bottle. “This is a hundred percent humidity.” 

“NO IT’S NOT!” Tsuzuru bellowed, finally at the end of what was admittedly a very long rope, all things considered. “IT IS NOT. IT’S TEA. IT’S BARLEY TEA. What do you _mean_ a hundred percent humidity? It doesn’t measure water, it measures water content _in the air!_ ” 

“That’s the same thing,” Tenma said. 

Tsuzuru seized Citron by the front of his robes and shook the Seer back and forth. “Kill me. Do it right now. Do it. Have Itaru take my soul and bring me down to hell. I don’t care anymore. It has to be better than this.” 

“Director, you have to know what I’m talking about,” Taichi said, pleading with shining eyes that belonged more to a puppy than it had any right being on his face. “Aren’t I making sense?” 

She hesitated and cautioned a glance to Tsuzuru, who was staring at her with narrowed eyes. “Well. W-Well. You know, Taichi, maybe you are.” 

“You make me so, so livid, I can’t even begin to describe it.” 

Sakuya struggled to keep his eyes from getting wet. The laughter that was swirling in his stomach, begging to be let out in hysterical belts, was starting to cramp his muscles. He loved it here, he really did. There was never a single moment that was boring. In the middle of the chaos, one other person joined the fray, seemingly intrigued by the rising noise levels. 

“Masumi,” Tsuzuru said, relief flooding into his voice. “Please. I know you did really well in your chemistry classes this year. _Please_ be the voice of reason with me in this madhouse. Taichi thinks that a hundred percent humidity is the ocean. Is this or is this not complete nonsense?” 

The Hunter looked from Taichi, to the Director, to Tsuzuru, to Sakuya, to the Director, to Citron, and back to the Director, before finally settling on Tsuzuru. His face was the epitome of emotionless, a complete mask meant for the poker tables. 

“I dunno. I think Taichi’s onto something here.” 

Tsuzuru collapsed onto his knees and pounded the living room’s floor with his fist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a nightmare the other day where I accidentally posted this chapter before it was ready, which is, admittedly, a very strange thing to dream about


	44. An Action You Want To Put Back In The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night, I sat down at my desk and figured I should write 1 or 2k words of chapter 44. But the grind got so good, I just wrote the entire chapter in a single sitting. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, have you guys listened to Catrione on youtube? They have this incredible Kiretetsu Poemer piano cover I looped for like three hours. It's such a slap
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXORfB1rafI&ab_channel=Catrione%27sMusic
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter: vomiting

Muku tried hard not to stumble on his feet as he was yanked unceremoniously down the hallway. “Y-Yuki! You can just tell me without pulling—” 

The brownie snapped his fingers and the training room door slammed shut. Muku heard the lock click behind him. 

“I finished it,” Yuki said simply. 

Muku paused. He blinked a few times. “The… the thing?” 

“The thing.” 

“ _Oh_. Is… it like the blueprint you showed me?” 

Yuki took a step closer until their faces were barely an inch apart. “It, and I am not exaggerating in the slightest, is _exactly_ like the blueprint.” 

“…And you want to test it out.” 

“I want to test it out. On _them_.” 

“Oh.” 

Yuki’s face split into a large, spiteful smile. “And I want you on my team.” 

Muku paled.

* * *

“I’m going to shave her eyebrows off.” 

“Tsuzuroon, c’mon. Director didn’t do this to hurt you!" 

“I’m going to hex her eyebrows so they never grow back, too. Her face is going to be bald and so will her descendants. I’ve never been a fan of generational curses but this might just be what gets me to study them." 

“It’s not that bad.” 

It was the little things that betrayed just how pissed off Tsuzuru was, since his face itself was incredibly neutral and contained. Kazunari couldn’t remember the last time a vein had made itself visible on his friend’s face, but here they were. Sitting on the same side of the desk, which meant Kazunari could see just how hard Tsuzuru’s balled up fists were shaking too. 

“I’ve been working my butt off in this Coven for two whole months and this is how she repays me, huh?” he said, voice dangerously soft. "By demoting me to a student. You know what? This is fine. I’ll just prove to her I don’t need tutoring from Homare Arisugawa of all people by putting a few Runes on her pots so they always burn the bottom of her curry.” 

“That’s a bit much, isn’t it? It’s only an hour a week.” 

Tsuzuru glared at Kazunari. “This is war.” 

“…Alright! You do you, man.” Note to self: tell the Director to go to sleep with Omi guarding her eyebrows for the rest of the month until Tsuzuroon gave up. 

Homare stepped into the study finally, eyes trained on his pocket watch. He glanced up at the two other Casters, didn’t say a word, and went back to focusing on the time. The seconds ticked by without a sound. Then Homare clicked the watch shut and slipped it into somewhere inside of his jacket. 

“Shall we begin?” he prompted. “Director has confirmed that if we get through the set list of objectives early, we can end the lesson and leave. I assume no one here would like to go the full hour, correct?” 

Tsuzuru took in a slow, deep breath. “Well, at least we’re on the same page about that.” 

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind going the full time!” 

Tsuzuru shot Kazunari a look but he refused to back down. Instead, Kazunari slung an arm around Tsuzuru’s shoulders and ruffled his hair. 

“You might have had your parents teach you all sorts of things but I had to be self-taught!” he complained. “Let me have this, please, Tsuzuroon? Pleeeeeaaaase?” 

“But—” 

“PLEEEEEEAAAAAASE?” 

“Oh my _lord_ , Kazunari, fine.” 

“Yay!” 

Homare watched their little exchange with a raised eyebrow. “Self-taught, hm? I hadn’t realized you were a Firstborn.” 

Kazunari sat up, taken aback by the comment. “I’m not. Secondborn halfblood! All my magic comes from my dad but he low-key _so_ sucks at teaching so everything I know’s from a beginner manual and my own little experiments." 

“Hm.” Homare looked like he was contemplating this. “So you taught yourself every level above the bare basics, is what you are telling me.” 

Well, sure, kind of. If you ignored the books he’d consulted for help, or bugging Tsuzuru to lend him a hand with the more complicated things. Kazunari just shrugged as an answer. 

“That might place you in a much higher bracket of potential than our dear traditionalist here.” 

Kazunari winced and stole a glance at Tsuzuru. Surprisingly, the Caster was keeping his cool. But for how long he’d keep that up, Kazunari didn’t know. Homare took a seat from across them and removed some things from his pockets. Two apples. He had a sneaking suspicion that Homare’s jacket was definitely charmed to fit more than what it looked like it could. 

“Transfigurate your apple into an orange,” Homare said simply. 

Tsuzuru looked down at the shining red surface flecked with gold. Without a word, he began to knit Runes together in a neat and tidy sequence. Kazunari looked away quickly so he wouldn’t be accused of copying and began to stitch his own little line. Turn the red into orange, change the texture of the peel into something zestier, thicker, spongier. The taste? Sweet and crisp to tart and pulpy. Soon, two relatively similar looking oranges sat in front of them. 

Homare snapped his fingers and a red Rune slithered out from beneath his jacket lapel, drifting to the palm of his hand and turning long and sharp. A tiny pocket knife. They watched him neatly cut a slice each from the oranges, peels still attached, and taste both. The room was so quiet. Kazunari fidgeted. Maybe they shouldn’t have put that silencer on the door. It would have been reassuring to hear the commotion that was going on outside. 

Homare’s upper lip curled with dissatisfaction. 

“Well. I suppose you two know the bare minimum at the very least. I must admit, it’s somewhat disheartening to see how little else there is above that standard.” 

It was like they could all _hear_ Tsuzuru’s molars cracking. 

“Would you like to share your criticisms with the class, Homare?” the boy prompted in a voice that was so performatively polite, the poisonous intent was ironically obvious. 

“You are both too rigid. Too dedicated to following how a _book_ commands you to cast your spells.” Homare splayed his fingers, setting crimson sparks loose across the surface of the table where they bounced, danced, and then wriggled into the porous peels like microscopic ants. “Spellcasting must be as fluid and nuanced as art. If you refuse to let yourself be creative with something as insignificant as changing a fruit, how on earth do you expect to reach newer heights when it actually matters?” 

He slid the oranges across the surface to his two students. (Or, at least, temporary students. Tsuzuroon might throw a fit if that was a title he had to bear for more than an hour a week). 

Kazunari tried a slice and jolted. The orange was—sweet. So sweet. And… sparkling. That was the only word he could think of in that moment. The little clusters of pulp popped on his tongue, letting the addictively sour juice pool. It was almost as though the slice held more juice than was possible for its size. 

“Dang, Aririn, you really know how to transfigure the flavor aspect,” Kazunari said in awe, taking another slice. Tsuzuru was still on his first, taking very tiny bites with narrowed eyes. “That’s so cool. Flavor is always hard for me to get right." 

“…Aririn?” 

“Yeah, man, like, Arisugawa but you take the first half and make it cute? Trust me, I know what I’m doing when it comes to nicknames. Totally a professional!" 

Homare blinked. He looked away to stare at a wall contemplatively before nodding once. 

“Alright. I’ll permit it. Unless something happens in the future that makes me dislike such a term.” 

“I’ve already got like forty nicknames for ya brewing in my noggin, just let me know if you get bored.” 

Homare turned his attention to Tsuzuru. “Mister Minagi. Do you care to tell me what you noticed we did differently?” 

Kazunari had no idea what his friend was thinking. There was a very careful mask over his face. 

“You didn’t use Runes,” Tsuzuru said softly. 

“Indeed. I did not. Do you perhaps have a suspicion as to why that is?” 

If Tsuzuru thought any harder, forced the cogs in his brain to churn any quicker, they’d no doubt soon be seeing smoke coming out of his ears. He stared at the orange in front of him, radiating what would have been murderous intent had it come from anybody else. 

“No. I don’t.” 

Homare, to his credit, simply rolled his eyes instead of making a rude noise. Tsuzuroon thankfully didn’t see it. 

And then he said, “This is why I dislike traditionalism so ardently for spell casting. It simply leaves you blind to possibilities and limits you to whatever paltry territory is able to be reaped from within the mental ditch.” 

“Tsuzuroon, please, your poor blood pressure,” Kazunari whispered with concern. 

“I’m absolutely fine, Kazunari.” 

“You’re… You’re turning purple.” 

“I. Am. Fine.” 

Homare tapped the table with one perfectly manicured nail. “Why do Casters use Runes, dear Mister Minagi?” 

“Our magic reserves are limited,” he responded immediately. " _Very_ limited compared to Witches. So we have to use Runes and manipulate the Rune binary into an order that best conveys our intent." 

“Mhm. And what is the fascinating nugget of truth within those words you have spoken? The implication?” 

Tsuzuru opened his mouth but then quickly clamped it shut. A thumb rose to his lips so he could have something to chew on. Or maybe it was his way of gagging himself so he didn’t immediately spit out a sharp, scathing response. The silence stretched. 

“Mister Minagi, I’m afraid you are pompous, vain, and _flagrantly_ self-important despite having very little reason to be so.” 

Tsuzuru didn’t glare. He didn’t shout, he didn’t bluster, he didn’t give Homare the bird. But it was in the way his voice quietly prompted “Excuse me?” that sent shivers running up the length of Kazunari’s spine. 

Homare held up a finger to stop him. 

“However. You are _not_ an idiot. I wouldn’t have even bothered to sit in this room and force myself to go through this arduous ordeal if I’d thought you were. I’m afraid my time is too important to waste on lost causes.” 

Kazunari covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh my gosh, Aririn, that’s so nice of you to say.” 

“What? _That_ was nice?” Tsuzuru hissed at him, rubbing his forehead. “Good lord. The bar is truly on the floor.” 

Homare slammed his palm on the table, making the two boys jolt at the loud noise. 

“ _What_ are Runes for?” he demanded. 

“…Magic amplification,” Tsuzuru repeated. 

“And? And? You are so close, do not disappoint me after I have given you all these dots and asked you to just _connect_ them. Mister Minagi, what is the question you are _not_ asking that is so heavily implied by this rule, this fact you are already aware of?” 

Kazunari couldn’t even begin to explain how grateful he was that at least it wasn’t _him_ on the hot seat. He had no idea what Homare was trying so hard to allude to. 

But apparently Tsuzuru did. 

His thumbnail dropped from his mouth. “Oh.” 

“Oh?” Kazunari muttered. 

“What…” Tsuzuru’s eyes had gone unfocused. Kazunari might not have been a Seer but one had to be _actually_ blind to not see how Tsuzuru was reeling. “What… is the potential of Caster magic. Without… Without the limitations of the binary.” 

Homare tilted his chin back, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Precisely.” 

“Casters… use Runes to—to amplify magic, but that means we shoulder the burden of having to rely on an extensive list of Runes.” Tsuzuru suddenly got up from his chair with the same lurch one would expect from a sleepwalker. He began pacing the room like there wasn’t two other people inside, watching him carefully. “The binary is long and there are so many characters but it’s still finite. What… can Caster magic do without having to rely on Runes?" 

Homare leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps not a lost cause after all.” 

“Okay, okay,” Kazunari said at least, raising his hands. “Not to be the party pooper and all but I’m kind of aware of Tsuzuroon’s self-destructive habits by now—” 

“I am _not_ self-destructive.” 

“…Dude, you put Cheez Whiz in your coffee this morning by accident because you were so tired.” 

“And?” 

“…And then you drank it.” 

Tsuzuru scoffed bitterly. “I’m _so_ sorry I’m not about to waste a cup of coffee. Beans are _expensive,_ Kazunari.” 

Kazunari stared at him for a moment before turning back to Homare. “Anyways, like I was saying, I know Tsuzuroon’s self-destructive habits by now and I _know_ he’s going to really hurt himself if we’re not careful. Aririn, I think this is a real interesting proposal and all but you gotta know _why_ we use Runes. Magic exhaustion is dangerous. Like… mega, ultra, super dangerous.” 

“Great heights always come with the risk of a great fall,” Homare snapped. “Wherefore does _that_ matter in the least?” 

Kazunari’s face twisted into a grimace and he opened his mouth to rebut those words. 

Tsuzuru didn’t give him a chance. 

“You’ve explored this before,” the Caster spat at Homare, bordering on accusatory. “That’s why your magic is so weird. It’s because you’re not following the binary.” 

Homare feigned shyness, flapping his wrist to fan his face in a mockery of humility. “I wouldn’t say I am not following the binary. I’ve simply been using Caster magic as it should be used. Your family, the current wave of Casters in society, those books you are so deeply fond of and wish to contribute to for whatever reason—they have all taught you that Casters must use Runes and only Runes. You weren’t even aware of the shackles they’ve slapped upon your wrists.” 

“How close have you been to dying?” Kazunari asked flatly. “How many times?” 

“Unimportant.” 

“Hello? Yes, it is.” 

“We are not meant to follow Runes like infatuated ducklings that know nothing of the world except to blindly follow whatever we’ve imprinted on,” Homare said loftily. “We are the ones who use Runes. Find new ways to twist those characters around our fingers and make our fantasies a reality. That is what it means to be a Caster. And that is what you have deprived yourself.” 

He paused. “At least until you’ve had the sheer privilege of meeting myself. I assure you, I will not be preaching the same hogwash your parents or those books have. I possess more class than that. Sit down, dear Mister Minagi.” 

Tsuzuru sat, dumbfounded. 

Homare smacked two more apples on the desk. (How many did he have in that jacket?) 

“Again,” Homare commanded them, face austere. “And _no. Runes._ ”

* * *

Tsuzuru slammed the door to the study open and paced quickly down the hall. 

“Like this?” Sakuya was asking Izumi, hands poised over a shoddily made clay mug as he blasted it with magical heat to turn it into ceramic. 

“Yes! Yes, just like…” Her voice pattered off as she glanced at the Caster who entered the living room. “Hey. No leaving the room until your lesson is done, even if Homare’s ‘being annoying.’” 

He paid her no mind. 

“Excuse me, Omi,” he said politely to the werewolf at the sink, who was currently de-pitting cherries for a pie. “Could you move for a minute?” 

“Hm? Of course. What’s—?” 

Then the Caster shoved the werewolf away and slammed his hands on the edges of the sink to vomit violently. 

“Tsuzuru?!” 

“Oh my god!” 

“What—?!” 

Kazunari scampered in, alarm clear in his eyes and displeasure clear in his frown. “ _Jeez_ , I knew this was going to happen! I told you to pace yourself, are you crazy?!” 

Tsuzuru heaved for air and didn’t grace Kazunari with a response. Instead, he hunched over harder and retched even louder. Omi watched in muted horror, gently rubbing circles onto Tsuzuru’s back as he continued being sick. 

“What happened in there?” Izumi demanded as Homare walked in next, face perfectly calm. 

“Dear Mister Minagi seems to have pushed himself a little too hard on our first lesson. The same thing has happened to me on multiple occasions in the past, just make sure he consumes electrolyte rich fluids and confine him to bedrest for twenty-four hours.” 

“It’s Tsuzuru! He’s never been in a bed for longer than five hours before in his _life_ , what do you mean twenty-four hours?!” 

Kazunari jabbed a finger in Homare’s chest, uncharacteristically upset. “Aririn, Tsuzuru completely sucks at taking care of himself and minding his health. You can’t trust him with dangerous practice! I _told_ you!” 

“Shut UP, Kazunari!” Tsuzuru snarled before shoving his face closer to the drain and letting loose a stream of bile. 

Izumi had her hands out, palms raised and fingers twitching like she didn’t know whether to join Omi in comforting Tsuzuru or to wring Homare’s neck. “ _What_ happened in your class?” 

“Just advanced Caster methodology, nothing to be concerned about.” 

“He told us to try to transfigure without using Runes,” Kazunari hissed. 

“YOU _WHAT._ ” 

Homare waved it off like she was throwing a hissy fit about the weather. “Don’t be so dramatic, Director.” 

“Dramatic?! Tsuzuru’s about to upchuck like four of his intestines, I am UNDERSTATING things if anything!” 

“I’m fine,” Tsuzuru snapped. “It’s just— _HOOOUUUUURRRGGGH_.” 

“Tsuzuru!” 

They waited an uncomfortably long while until he finally stopped vomiting. The small crowd watched as the Caster slid to his knees, hands still on the edge of the sink in case something came back up and he needed to lunge back to the safety of the drain. 

Homare clapped his hands. “Well, I think Mister Minagi deserves some time to his room. You there, the big fellow, if you would help carry him to his room.” 

“You got it,” Omi said softly, picking up the gangly six foot tall university student in a strange looking bridal carry. 

Tsuzuru leaned his head on Omi’s chest, shaking like a drenched chihuahua. His eyelids drooped and his eyes seemed to drift in and out of focus. “You… smell like soup.” 

“…I’m sorry?” 

“No, no. It’s nice.” 

Omi’s chest rumbled with soft laughter as he began to tote Tsuzuru off to his bedroom. “Let’s get you a cold compress and some gatorade, okay?” 

“Omi… I wish I was richer… I wish I could give you a lot of money…” 

“The sentiment is kind enough, Tsuzuru, thank you.”

* * *

Izumi rested her forehead on her laced fingers. There was a pounding headache pressed right up agains the inside of her skull that no amount of Advil would erase. “You _can’t_ have Tsuzuru going over Runeless magic.” 

“Wherefore, Director?” Homare glanced at the giant hole in the office floor. “Also, what is that?" 

“Don’t look at it, we don’t have it in the budget to get it fixed.” She sucked in a slow breath, trying to get her jumbled thoughts in coherent enough of an order so she could explain this in a way that Homare would understand. “Homare… Tsuzuru has seven younger brothers.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Goodness. That’s certainly an amount.” 

“I know. And he’s a _very_ good older brother, mind you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes when I visited his house. He’s my number two for a reason. I trust him to be in a powerful position within this Coven. He usually listens to my orders, he cares about our students as much as I do, and he’s one of the most responsible, level-headed people I’ve had the privilege of meeting.” 

“…I don’t see how—" 

She cut him off with a hand in the air. 

“That stops the second we step into the territory of him handling himself,” Izumi said in a tired voice. “Tsuzuru’s greatest downfall is that he keeps giving to those around him and leaves nothing for his own wellbeing. He can be a real prideful, stubborn idiot. And because he can’t be trusted to take care of himself, _we_ have to. Do you understand?” 

Homare’s frown deepened. “Quite frankly? No.” 

“Homare…” 

He rolled his eyes and huffed like she was being thick. “Director, it’s simply a part of growing as a Caster. If he so wishes to escape the rotting cage of pointless, strangling spell casting that the plebeians around him have placed him within, then it takes the sweat and effort. And bile, I suppose. He will be fine. I went through the same process at a younger age than he is now.” 

Izumi froze for a split second before slowly leaning back in her chair. She tilted her head to the side to scrutinize Homare. Look the man up and down, really take him in. From his unevenly chopped hair to his bright yellow vest to his shiny penny-loafers. 

“Did you have people by your side willing to stop you?” she asked simply. 

Homare Arisugawa could count on one hand the number of times he’d been struck speechless. Genuinely, entirely, uncompromisingly speechless with no words coming to mind to fill the void. 

The number grew by one. 

She sighed and jerked her chin towards the door. “You’re dismissed. We’ll talk about this more later but I want you to think about this on your own for a while. Whether you think that process of draining yourself and hurting for magic on your own is an action you want to put back in the world… or stop. That’s a choice I think only you can make for yourself."

* * *

Izumi knocked on Tsuzuru’s lab door. 

“I’m busy.” 

She opened it and put her hands on her hips. “Heyyyyyyyyyy, Banri. I, uhhh, haha, I need to go out real quick and buy a few—a few books! Books. From a special store.” 

Banri rubbed his eyes. “Okay, and?” 

Izumi put a finger on her chin. “Well, I’m little ol’ me. Scared of going outside on my own, you know? Haha. Dangerous city! Yep, real dangerous. And Omi’s busy. Would you be a dear and go with me? You know, because I’m scared! Very. You wouldn’t let a lady go out on her own, would you?” 

“Director, you _really_ suck at lying, don’t you.” 

She let her hand drop and rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Get your ass off the stool, we’re going on a walk together.” 

“I’m working.” 

“I’ll ban Juza for a week.” 

The pencil in his hand snapped. “You _need_ to stop holding that over my head. One day it’s not going to work anymore and that’s when you’re really going to have your work cut out for you.” 

Izumi snorted and held the door open, gesturing for him to stand up and exit through it. “Maybe if you’d start listening to me for once, I wouldn’t have to jump to my trump card every single time.” 

He grabbed his jacket from the corner of the room and shrugged it on. “Where we off to?” 

“Oh… somewhere.” 

Ominous.

* * *

She was chattering.

Rambling, more like. But she had to. Anything to occupy the boy and blind him to her real plans.

It didn't work. They rounded the corner to Banri Settsu's home street and he instantly knew what was going on.

Izumi Tachibana accredited the way she seized the back of Banri’s jacket in the nick of time to pure reflex and, against her will, a deep knowledge of the boy’s habits. 

“You are _not_ getting out of this, I told you this was the ONLY way I was going to let you stay in the Coven,” she hissed as she struggled to haul Banri closer to his house. “We are coming clean to your parents together!" 

“HELP!” Banri bellowed to the streets. “HELP! HELP! KIDNAPPING! THIS WOMAN IS KIDNAPPING A HIGH SCHOOL BOY! I’M BEING KIDNAPPED!" 

“Banri! Oh my god!” 

“SHE IS _KIDNAPPING ME!_ I AM A MINOR, I REPEAT, I AM A MINOR, SOMEONE HELP.” 

“BANRI!"

* * *

“Who’s making all that noise in the street, dear?” a man asked as he entered the small home’s kitchen. 

“Ohhhhh,” his wife squinted out the window. “Just the Settsu boy again.” 

“Ah. The one who ran down our mailbox with his parents’ car last year?” 

“That’s the one.” 

The man chuckled as he spread his newspaper. “Youth. I miss it."

* * *

She dug her heels into the ground so that Banri wouldn’t sprint away and used her elbow to knock frantically on the door. It opened to reveal a woman standing inside, wearing business casual and with the same sandy hair tied up into a smart little bun on the top of her head. Banri stopped struggling as soon as she came into view and returned to the definition of casual and calm. 

Izumi cleared her throat and smiled. “Hello. Mrs. Settsu, I take it?" 

“Mom, help me,” Banri said immediately. “This crazy lady’s abducted me from the streets. I have no idea who she is, I’ve never met her before in my life. She just came up to me randomly and told me to bring us to the house or else she’d stab me. Call the police right now. She has a knife in her bag.” 

Izumi’s jaw dropped as she jerked her head to the side and stared at the teen. “BANRI.” 

Banri Settsu’s mother clicked her tongue. “That won’t work on me twice, young man.” 

Banri kicked the ground. “Shit.” 

Izumi smacked his arm. “Were you seriously going to have your mother call the police on me to avoid this?” 

“I knew it was going to be a stretch but you can’t blame a guy for trying.” 

“…YES, I CAN?” 

Banri’s mother opened the door wider, and Izumi immediately felt guilt for the way the woman looked so, so tired. “I assume you have something you need to discuss with me. Why don’t you come inside, Miss…?” 

“Call me Director Tachibana!” Izumi said brightly after shooting Banri one more ugly look. “Or Izumi, if you’d prefer. Sitting down would be great, this might be a lot to take in.” 

She was led into a beautifully decorated sitting room, with sleek, toffee-colored leather couches that were ridiculously uncomfortable. Lots of modern art was framed on the walls. One could accuse the Settsus of a lot but no one would be able to say that they weren’t a classy bunch. She took a seat and opened her mouth to begin explaining. 

Before a word left her, Banri's mother bowed low; almost a perfect ninety degrees at her waist and with her hands neatly folded. “From the bottom of my heart, I’m so sorry for whatever it is he’s done. I swear we’ll pay for the damages, just _please_ don’t file charges. He’s only a teenager." 

Izumi stared at her. She turned to Banri in disappointment. “How much have you put your poor mother through for _that_ to be the first thing out of her mouth?” 

Banri shrugged. 

“Please don’t tell me he burnt down your garden shed,” Mrs. Settsu pleaded. 

“Ugh, mom, that’s so not fair, that’s only happened, like, once.” 

“Twice. It happened twice, young man. The boot camp isn’t going to accept you for another summer, Banri, not after what you did to their cabin’s structural integrity the last time. Hush while the adults are talking." 

He scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets. 

This… was somehow the weirdest family dynamic Izumi had encountered yet. 

“Mrs. Settsu, maybe you should sit down for this,” Izumi said gently. “It’s quite overwhelming news to receive, that’s for sure.” 

Banri’s mom sat down. 

Might as well just say it outright. There were only so many ways Izumi could beat around the bush. “Your son is blessed.” 

Somehow, this was apparently the worst thing she could have said. Mrs. Settsu covered her mouth with shaking fingers and stared at Banri like he’d just grown a second head. 

“ _Tell_ me you haven’t started another cult,” she murmured. 

Izumi pressed two fingers to her forehead. This poor, poor woman. “Banri, what the _hell_ have you done in your middle school years?” 

“Oh my god, Mom, it wasn’t a _cult_ , Jesus Christ. How many times do I have to tell you?” 

“You had an entire horde of your classmates on our lawn begging for you to come out and play every day!” 

“Because I was the most popular guy Hanasaki’s ever seen, that’s not _my_ fault! It’s everyone else’s fault for being giant nerds that can’t function for a second on their own without idolizing me because I can actually play basketball!" 

“ _Two_ of those boys called you Our Great Savior and Leader. Two of them!” 

Banri tossed his hands into the air in an exasperated, relenting shrug. “That’s because Koichi and Tomo are complete nimrods that couldn’t even cross the street on their own! That’s NOT. MY. FAULT. Stop _blaming_ everything on me, goddammit!” 

“You watch your tongue, mister.” 

He gritted his teeth and looked away with a sharp click of his tongue. 

“Banri’s magical,” Izumi said bluntly. “And not in a metaphorical way.” 

Mrs. Settsu looked at her. 

Izumi flicked her finger and let the coaster on the coffee table rise in the air. 

Mrs. Settsu watched until Izumi’s power ran out and it dropped back down. 

“I see,” she said. She got up. “I think I should go draw some tea. Would you like some butter cookies, Director Tachibana?” 

“…You’re taking this very well, Mrs. Settsu.” 

“Call me Minami, please. I insist. I’ll be just a moment.” 

Then it was just Izumi and Banri in the living room. She picked at a fraying hole in her jeans. 

“You know, Banri, it’s kind of both a relief and upsetting that you’re apparently the same person both in and out of the Coven,” Izumi said at last to break the silence. 

He sneered. “At least you can’t accuse me of being a pain in the ass to just you.” 

“Yeah. I certainly can’t.” 

“I want you to know that I’ve actually been holding back in the Coven. I’ve been minding my manners. So you’re welcome." 

She sighed deeply. “I see." 

Banri’s mother came back with the promised tea and cookies, splayed prettily on a delicate wooden tray. She placed it on the coffee table between them and gestured for Izumi to take one. Which she did. The biscuit melted into a sugary paste on her tongue. Izumi was personally more of a Funions girl than anything else, but it _tasted_ expensive. 

“It certainly explains a lot,” Minami admitted after Izumi took a bite. “Banri has always been a little special.” 

“Gee, thanks, mom. I’m literally right here.” 

“Hush.” 

He made a face and took a fistful of the cookies for himself. 

Izumi started going down the same script she had for Muku’s father. Quickly brushing over magic society. The one law they could never, _ever_ break—never letting magic become public knowledge. What Banri’s blessing meant. 

Banri’s mother smiled as she traced the lip of her teacup with her fingertip. “Ah. That makes sense. I always thought his father was too perfect to be real. And then our children, well, both Banri and his sister were so gifted and talented at everything. I certainly feel blessed in this family. Perhaps I should visit the church and thank God for the part His angels played.” 

“Well, er, we say angel but there’s no theology confirmed,” Izumi said. 

“Banri’s father is an adventurous soul.” 

Banri snorted. “Yeah, okay. Sure. He’s an _accountant_ , Mom. Dad thinks putting a second squirt of Sriracha sauce on his Eggs Benedict is crazy wild." 

“Young man, what did I say about letting the adults talk?” 

“Tch.” 

God, they were such a weird family. 

Minami suddenly _glowed_ with the power of her smile like some kind of sun-kissed goddess. At least Izumi finally knew where Banri had gotten his looks from. 

“Then maybe I should be thanking you instead,” she said, and then reached over to take one of Izumi’s hands in her own. “Banri’s school attendance has never been better than in the past two months. He’s stopped swearing as often, he’s stopped getting into fights—I’m happy to know my son is finally, _finally_ challenged and content under your care.” 

“Oh, gross, she’s getting sappy,” aforementioned son growled quietly. 

Izumi’s heart swelled. She clasped Minami’s hands back. “Of course. It’s just my job as the Director, after all! Banri has a lot of potential but that’s not something you don’t know already. I promise I’ll always be there as his teacher to look out for him and help him grow as a magician.” 

“ _Gross_. Director, don’t _reflect_ the sappiness, what’s wrong with you?” 

They ignored him. 

“Well!” Izumi said as she got to her feet. “That’s all I really wanted to discuss. Thank you for giving me the time. Banri told me you’re an actuary so you’re probably very busy. I’ll be leaving now.” 

Banri suddenly leapt off of the couch. “Wait, wait, wait. Hold it. Give me one second.” 

He sprinted up the winding staircase towards, Izumi could only guess, his bedroom. He returned quickly with a paper clutched in hand. He placed it down on the coffee table and handed his mother a pen. 

“What is this?” Minami prompted as she picked it up. 

“Permission slip to stay in the Mankai dorms. I’ve been keeping it in case.” 

Izumi was reeling. “Where did you get that?” 

“Remember that time I broke into your office with Sakuya?” 

“…When he sank through the floor?” 

“Yeah.” 

She took another cookie and didn’t even bother acting surprised at this point. 

“You have dorms for students?” Minami asked with a raised eyebrow as she skimmed the sheet. 

“We do, but Banri lives close enough where he doesn’t have to stay. He can just commute like he’s been doing up until now.” 

Banri shook his head. “Nope.” 

Izumi frowned at him. 

“I wanna stay at the Coven full-time. I’ve got so many projects to get through and having to go back and forth is a pain in the ass. Let me stay.” 

Minami suddenly looked up from the paper. “I’m actually fine with this but I do have one request if you don’t mind, Director. Make sure you have a teacher to keep an eye on him, yes? My son is darling but he definitely needs disciplinary figures on stand-by at all times. I cannot stress this enough. He needs to be watched very closely.” 

“Mom, like, can you chill? Please? You’re making it sound like I’m some kind of dog that chews up furniture.” 

“Funny you should mention that. You did have a habit of nibbling at the drywall of your bedroom when you were younger.” 

“ _Mom_. Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.” 

Izumi chewed her lower lip. Banri _was_ just ridiculously capable of anything. Having him close was probably more beneficial for the Coven than harmful. 

Probably. 

“Alright,” she said at last. “Just sign the form and he can move in today. I’ll fax you a copy once I get back to the Coven." 

Minami signed the dotted line with flourish and handed it to Izumi, who folded it up and tucked it into her purse. 

“I’m so sorry in advance for any trouble this rascal puts you through,” she said sincerely. “And if he’s ever being difficult, don’t hesitate to let me know. I wrote my phone number on the sheet as well." 

“No, no, Banri’s been great,” Izumi said. Then she stopped. Well… “Except for the zombie incident a month or two ago but he’s been a ray of sunshine ever since.” That was pushing it, surely, but Izumi would be lying if she said she didn’t have a soft spot for him. Banri was a part of the Coven, after all. 

Minami flinched. “Zombie incident?” 

“Don’t tell her,” Banri said. 

“No, no, Director. Please. Tell me what this zombie incident was." 

Where was she supposed to begin? “He had a biiiiit of a brush with necromancy but that was because he didn’t know what he was doing! We’ve had a long talk about it and he hasn’t had an issue since.” 

Minami pressed her lips together into a thin line of suspicion. “Director Tachibana. Be honest with me. Is necromancy in this… magical community of yours illegal?” 

Oh boy. 

She stuck her tongue against her cheek. “K-Kind of. A little? Just a wee bit.” She pressed her thumb and forefinger together. 

“I see. Excuse me for a minute.” 

Banri’s mother rose again and went up the stairs. She returned quickly with a plastic box in her hands. 

“I told you, Banri,” Minami said severely. “One more infraction and goodbye Playstation." 

Her son bolted straight up. 

“That’s not _fair_!” Banri shouted. “You said you’d only take it away if Officer Hoshikawa contacted you about my behavior!” 

Minami silenced her son with a pointed glare. “ _Or_. Or if you got in trouble with the law, mister. And according to this young lady, you’ve been treading a _dangerous_ line in the magic community under our noses, haven’t you? God. I don’t even want to think about how much you’ve put Director Tachibana through in the past few weeks.” 

“MOM!” 

She placed the PS5 on the table. “I’m going to be locking this away until Director Tachibana tells us you can have it back.” 

He smacked his forehead and slouched in his chair with a groan. Then he shot the Director an ugly look. “Look at what you’ve done. I hope you’re proud of yourself.” 

What. A weird, _weird_ family.

* * *

Tsuzuru Minagi cracked open a bleary eye. He could just barely process that it was a ceiling he was seeing. A familiar one with a bit of a crack in the paint job near the lightbulbs. So his dorm room, then. 

“Hey,” someone said softly. 

He turned his head to see the Director sitting by his bedside. 

She smiled at him and placed her hand on his forehead. “How are you feeling?” 

Tsuzuru closed his eyes and let himself melt slightly into the cool touch for just a moment. “Better. Tired.” 

“Kazunari’s been pacing in your room for the past couple of hours until I forced him to grab some fish for Monica. He was really worried about you." 

“Ha.” The laugh was empty. Tsuzuru’s chin wrinkled. “I feel so stupid.” 

“Draining yourself _was_ very stupid, so I’m not going to make you feel better.” 

He snorted and then winced at how the sharp intake of air caused a wave of pain to go through his skull. “No. Not the drain. Homare just makes me feel like I’ve got a brick for a brain whenever I’m in the room with him. It’s not fair.” 

“Tsuzuru, he’s got like a decade on you in terms of age,” she said calmly, carding through his locks of hair. “I’m sure when you’re twenty-eight, you’ll be able to do whatever weird shenanigans he can. You’ve _got_ to stop treating your body like it’s something expendable. It’s not.” 

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he swallowed thickly. 

“Do you get upset about it?” he asked. 

Izumi’s brow scrunched. “About what?” 

“Being a Fourthborn. You don’t have a lot of magic power but you’re surrounding yourself with some real heavy hitters. Does it get frustrating?” 

She didn’t speak at first. Just continued to comb Tsuzuru’s sweat slick hair back. 

“I used to be a lot more bothered by it when I was younger,” she confessed at last, voice somehow still fond. “I was really torn up about my magic. For a lot of reasons. I was mad I couldn’t be a part of my dad’s Coven. I was angry he didn’t give me the attention I wanted, and I thought that maybe if I had more magic in me, he’d finally let me be a part of his life. But… then I grew out of it. It took a lot of work and a lot of self-reflection but ultimately, I came out of it still loving magic. I love being in Mankai, Tsuzuru. I love seeing all of you flourish and bloom in your own ways, ways I can’t myself. If I can be a part of that picture in any way I can, then it's worth it.” 

“I don’t think I could do that, Director,” he said softly. “I don’t think I’m big enough of a person to pull a willing Tantalus and surround myself in the things I love but can’t reach.” 

Her laugh was high and clear. “You’d be surprised. I think you just don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

“Thank you for saying so.” Tsuzuru finally opened his eyes and let his smile slide off his face. “Okay. You can tell me now.” 

Izumi’s hand stopped. 

Tsuzuru made a face. “Don’t think I don’t know. You have that look.” 

“W-What look?” 

“That _look_ you get whenever you have something to tell me but you’re freaking out about whether it’ll make me quit working for you." 

Izumi cleared her throat and withdrew her arm. “In my defense, you do threaten quitting on like a regular basis.” 

“First of all, can I be blamed after all the crap I’ve gone through here? Second of all, _you_ out of anybody should know I’m being facetious whenever I threaten quitting. Just tell me, Director, the anxiety’s starting to make my stomach cramp again." 

Well, nothing like just ripping the bandaid off. “Banri… got permission from his mom to move into the Coven. You know. Dorm?” 

“Alright. And?” 

“We’re… We’re out of. Of rooms. And she, well, his mom made a request that there be a teacher close by at all times to keep an eye on him.” 

Tsuzuru’s heart just about stopped in his chest. His face went mushy gray like oatmeal. 

“No,” he whispered. “You don’t mean—You aren’t saying…” 

Someone kicked the door open. Banri Settsu strolled in carrying a pillow under one arm. 

“What’s _up_ , dude,” he sneered. “Or should I say... roomie?” 

Omi followed him holding a mattress. “He just woke up too. Even I have to say this feels cruel and unusual, Director." 

Izumi closed her eyes with a pained wince. “I’m so, _so_ sorry." 

Tsuzuru stared at Banri. 

Banri stared back. 

Tsuzuru sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed. 

“What are you—?” 

He threw up on Banri’s shoes. 

“OH, WHAT THE _FUCK!_ ” 

“TSUZURU, NO!”

* * *

Yuki checked Tsuzuru’s vitals. 

“He’s fine,” the young boy said in monotone, tucking his stethoscope away. “Just worn out. Keep him on the gatorade and the bed and away from stress.” 

Banri chuckled from where his temporary cot had been set up in the corner. “Hey-o. That’s not gonna be easy.” 

Izumi wrung her hands. “Thanks for checking in, Yuki. I panicked when he passed out again.” 

“Not a problem. But if you’re willing to, I’d like to ask you for a quick favor.” 

A favor? Yuki wasn’t one to ask for them usually. “Hm?” 

Yuki jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in Banri’s direction. “Him. And Sumeragi. I want a supervised spar with them in the training room.” 

“HAH!” Banri burst. 

Izumi silenced him with a pointed look. “Shut it, mister Vomit Shoes.” 

“Oh, hey, no, that’s a low blow. So uncalled for. Those were my Yeezys he fu—freaking spewed on. I actually liked those shoes.” 

Yuki ignored every single word out of Banri’s mouth and continued. “Tag team. It’s me and Muku versus the both of them. And I want you to let the terms pass.” 

“…What terms?” 

God, Izumi was getting so old in this Coven. It was like every passing hour was like a year on her lifespan. 

“Losers have to do what the winners say. First team incapacitated wins.” 

A quick horror movie panned out in Izumi’s imagination. Incapacitated? Two fourteen year olds against one of the most well-trained Hunters in the city and a blessed delinquent. There was no way they’d be getting out of this without a broken bone. 

“Incapacitated is a little too much for me to green light,” she said at last. “How about something capture-the-flag adjacent? Banners on opposite sides of the training room. First duo to take the other wins.” 

Yuki narrowed his eyes. The tips of his pointed ears twitched before he finally jerked his head up and down in a nod. “That’ll work too. But you’re okay with the winners and losers thing?” 

“Ohhh, make way, the goddamn foot-tall elf is getting real brave for his, what, zero point five shoe size?"

Yuki slowly turned around. “I. Am going to _annihilate_ you.” 

“Bring it on, shrimp. Sumeragi can go on a hike or something, I’ll wipe the floor with you and that Hyodo cousin any day of the week _blindfolded_.” 

Yuki opened his mouth to spit out a smart retort but then stilled. He instead smiled warmly. 

“You’re a real pleasure to be around, Banri,” he said, saccharine and innocent. 

Banri’s face screwed up. “What the hell?” 

“Director?” Yuki said, still so sweet and goodnatured. “It’s alright with you, hm? I already talked to Muku about it and he’s willing. Please? Pretty please? After everything I’ve done for this Coven from the good of my heart?” 

Izumi stared down at him. “…Yeah. Yes. Sure, Yuki, you got it. Just please stop doing that, it's a little unnerving. I’ll schedule it for tonight.” 

“Ahaha! Thank you so much! Oh, and Settsu?” Yuki turned around again, serene. Angelic. 

Banri fought the urge to hug his pillow to his chest for some reason. “What.” 

The brownie’s small hand rose through the air until he brought it to his throat, dragging a finger across it. The smile turned nasty.

“I’d start picking up a religion and praying if I were you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in around chapter 24, after Yuki had his first confrontation with Tenma, he stops for a second with an "idea." I've scattered a few mentions of him "working" on something throughout the past few chapters ever since but his project is finally finished! How exciting!


End file.
